IDYLLS OF THE KING
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2016
https://archive.org/details/idyllsofking00tenn_0
Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first,
^o fetch her, and she took him for the King.
Frontispiece
Idylls of the King
'jik? t&y
W W
BY
ALFRED
LORD TENNYSON
Illustrated in Colour by
ELEANOR FORTESCUE BRICKDALE
HODDER & STOUGHTON
London • NewYbrk • Toronto
Printed at the Edinburgh Press in the City of London.
ILLUSTRATIONS
W
ENID
Facing pate
To make her beauty vary day by day,
In crimsons and in purples and in gems. 6
Enid. 14
Yniol’s rusted arms
Were on his princely person, but thro’ these
Princelike his bearing shone. 30
They rode so slowly and they look’d so pale. 38
And many past, but none regarded her. 62
ILLUSTRATIONS
w
w
VIVIEN
At which the King
PaciHt taut
Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by.
70
O master, do you love my tender rhyme ?
78
Nor saw she save the King, who wrought the charm.
86
Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first.
To fetch her, and she took him for the King.
Frontispiece
And in the hollow oak he lay as dead.
And lost to life and use and name and fame.
94
W
ELAINE
Elaine.
102
Then to her tower she climb’d, and took the shield,
There kept it, and so lived in fantasy.
no
ILLUSTRATIONS
But to be with you still, to see your face,
To serve you, and to follow you thro’ the world.
So those two brethren from the chariot took
And on the black decks laid her in her bed.
Farewell, fair lily.
GUINEVERE
The Queen who sat betwixt her best
Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her court
The wiliest and the worst.
It was their last hour,
A madness of farewells.
Before the coming of the sinful Queen.
They found a naked child upon the sands
Of dark Dundagil by the Cornish sea ;
And that was Arthur ; and they foster’d him
Till he by miracle was approven King.
Facing Page
118
134
142
150
158
160
164
ILLUSTRATIONS
Facing page
As in the golden days. 168
The sombre close of that voluptuous day
Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King. 172
ENID
ENID
HE brave Geraint, a knight of Arthur’s court,
A tributary prince of Devon, one
Of that great Order of the Table Round,
Had married Enid, Yniol’s only child,
And loved her, as he loved the light of Heaven.
And as the light of Heaven vanes, now
At sunrise, now at sunset, now by night
With moon and trembling stars, so loved Geraint
To make her beauty vary day by day,
In crimsons and in purples and in gems.
And Enid, but to please her husband’s eye.
Who first had found and loved her in a state
Of broken fortunes, daily fronted him
In some fresh splendour ; and the Queen herself.
Grateful to Prince Geraint for service done.
Loved her, and often with her own wtiite hands
Array’d and deck’d her as the loveliest.
Next after her own self, in all the court.
And Enid loved the Queen, and with true heart
Adored her, as the stateliest and the best
And loveliest of all women upon earth.
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
And seeing them so tender and so close,
Long in their common love rejoiced Geraint.
But when a rumour rose about the Queen,
Touching her guilty love for Lancelot,
Tho* yet there lived no proof, nor yet was heard
The world’s loud whisper breaking into storm.
Not less Geraint believed it; and there fell
A horror on him, lest his gentle wife.
Thro’ that great tenderness for Guinevere,
Had suffer’d, or should suffer any taint
In nature : wherefore going to the King,
He made this pretext, that his princedom lay
Close on the borders of a territory.
Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights.
Assassins, and all flyers from the hand
Of Justice, and whatever loathes a law :
And therefore, till the King himself should please
To cleanse this common sewer of all his realm.
He craved a fair permission to depart,
And there defend his marches ; and the King
Mused for a little on his plea, but, last.
Allowing it, the Prince and Enid rode.
And fifty knights rode with them, to the shores
Of Severn, and they past to their own land ;
Where, thinking, that if ever yet was wife
True to her lord, mine shall be so to me.
He compass’d her with sweet observances
And worship, never leaving her, and grew
Forgetful of his promise to the King,
Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt.
Forgetful of the tilt and tournament,
2
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Forgetful of his glory and his name,
Forgetful of his princedom and its cares.
And this forgetfulness was hateful to her.
And by and by the people, when they met
In twos and threes, or fuller companies.
Began to scoff and jeer and babble of him
As of a prince whose manhood was all gone,
And molten down in mere uxoriousness.
And this she gather’d from the people’s eyes:
This too the women who attired her head.
To please her, dwelling on his boundless love.
Told Enid, and they sadden’d her the more:
And day by day she thought to tell Geraint,
But could not out of bashful delicacy ;
While he that watch’d her sadden, was the more
Suspicious that her nature had a taint.
last, it chanced that on a summer morn
(They sleeping each by other) the new sun
Beat thro’ the blindless casement of the room
And heated the strong warrior in his dreams ;
Who, moving, cast the coverlet aside.
And bared the knotted column of his throat.
The massive square of his heroic breast,
And arms on which the standing muscle sloped.
As slopes a wild brook o’er a little stone.
Running too vehemently to break upon it.
And Enid woke and sat beside the couch,
Admiring him, and thought within herself,
Was ever man so grandly made as he?
Then, like a shadow, past the people’s talk
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
And accusation of uxoriousness
Across her mind, and bowing over him,
Low to her own heart piteously she said :
“O noble breast and all-puissant arms,
Am I the cause, I the poor cause that men
Reproach you, saying all your force is gone?
I am the cause, because I dare not speak
And tell him what I think and what they say.
And yet I hate that he should linger here ;
I cannot love my lord and not his name.
Far liefer had I gird his harness on him.
And ride with him to battle and stand by,
And watch his mightful hand striking great blows
At caitiffs and at wrongers of the world.
Far better were I laid in the dark earth,
Not hearing any more his noble voice.
Not to be folded more in these dear arms,
And darken’d from the high light in his eyes,
Than that my lord thro* me should suffer shame.
Am I so bold, and could I so stand by.
And see my dear lord wounded in the strife.
Or maybe pierced to death before mine eyes.
And yet not dare to tell him what I think.
And how men slur him, saying all his force
Is melted into mere effeminacy?
O me, I fear that I am no true wife.”
Half inwardly, half audibly she spoke.
And the strong passion in her made her weep
True tears upon his broad and naked breast,
4
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And these awoke him, and by great mischance
He heard but fragments of her later words,
And that she fear’d she was not a true wife.
And then he thought, “In spite of all my care,
For all my pains, poor man, for all my pains.
She is not faithful to me, and I see her
Weeping for some gay knight in Arthur’s hall.”
Then tho’ he loved and reverenced her too much
To dream she could be guilty of foul act.
Right thro’ his manful breast darted the pang
That makes a man, in the sweet face of her
Whom he loves most, lonely and miserable.
At this he hurl’d his huge limbs out of bed.
And shook his drowsy squire awake and cried,
“My charger and her palfrey;” then to her,
“I will ride forth into the wilderness;
For tho’ it seems my spurs are yet to win,
I have not fall’n so low as some would wish.
And you, put on your worst and meanest dress
And ride with me.” And Enid ask’d, amazed,
“If Enid errs, let Enid learn her fault.”
But he, “I charge you, ask not, but obey.”
Then she bethought her of a faded silk,
A faded mantle and a faded veil.
And moving toward a cedarn cabinet.
Wherein she kept them folded reverently
With sprigs of summer laid between the folds,
She took them, and array’d herself therein.
Remembering when first he came on her
Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it.
And all her foolish fears about the dress,
5
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And all his journey to her, as himself
Had told her, and their coming to the court.
OR Arthur on the Whitsuntide before
Held court at old Caerleon upon Usk.
There on a day, he sitting high in hall.
Before him came a forester of Dean,
Wet from the woods, with notice of a hart
Taller than all his fellows, milky-white.
First seen that day: these things he told the King.
Then the good King gave order to let blow
His horns for hunting on the morrow morn.
And when the Queen petition’d for his leave
To see the hunt, allow’d it easily.
So with the morning all the court were gone.
But Guinevere lay late into the morn.
Lost in sweet dreams, and dreaming of her love
For Lancelot, and forgetful of the hunt ;
But rose at last, a single maiden with her,
Took horse, and forded Usk, and gain’d the wood ;
There, on a little knoll beside it, stay’d
Waiting to hear the hounds; but heard instead
A sudden sound of hoofs, for Prince Geraint,
Late also, wearing neither hunting-dress
Nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand,
Game quickly flashing thro’ the shallow ford
Behind them, and so gallop’d up the knoll.
A purple scarf, at either end whereof
There swung an apple of the purest gold.
Sway’d round about him, as he gallop’d up
To join them, glancing like a dragon-fly
6
*^0 make her beauty vary day by day,
In crimsons and in purples and in gems.
Page /
IDYLLS OF THE KING
In summer suit and silks of holiday.
Low bow’d the tributary Prince, and she,
Sweetly and statelily, and with all grace
Of womanhood and queenhood, answer’d him :
“Late, late. Sir Prince,” she said, “later than we!”
“Yea, noble Queen,” he answer’d, “and so late
That I but come like you to see the hunt.
Not join it.” “Therefore wait with me,” she said;
“For on this little knoll, if anywhere.
There is good chance that we shall hear the hounds :
Here often they break covert at our feet.”
And while they listen’d for the distant hunt,
And chiefly for the baying of Gavall,
King Arthur’s hound of deepest mouth, there rode
Full slowly by a knight, lady, and dwarf;
Whereof the dwarf lagg’d latest, and the knight
Had visor up, and show’d a youthful face.
Imperious, and of haughtiest lineaments.
And Guinevere, not mindful of his face
In the King’s hall, desired his name, and sent
Her maiden to demand it of the dwarf ;
Who being vicious, old and irritable.
And doubling all his master’s vice of pride.
Made answer sharply that she should not know.
“Then will I ask it of himself,” she said.
“Nay, by my faith, thou shalt not,” cried the dwarf;
“Thou art not worthy ev’n to speak of him;”
And when she put her horse toward the knight.
Struck at her with his whip, and she return’d
Indignant to the Queen; at which Geraint
7
c
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Exclaiming, “Surely I will learn the name,”
Made sharply to the dwarf, and ask’d it of him.
Who answer’d as before; and when the Prince
Had put his horse in motion toward the knight.
Struck at him with his whip, and cut his cheek.
The Prince’s blood spirted upon the scarf.
Dyeing it; and his quick, instinctive hand
Caught at the hilt, as to abolish him :
But he, from his exceeding manfulness
And pure nobility of temperament.
Wroth to be wroth at such a worm, refrain’d
From ev’n a word, and so returning said :
‘ ‘ I will avenge this insult, noble Queen,
Done in your maiden’s person to yourself:
And I will track this vermin to their earths;
For tho’ I ride unarm’d, I do not doubt
To find, at some place I shall come at, arms
On loan, or else for pledge; and, being found.
Then will I fight him, and will break his pride.
And on the third day will again be here.
So that I be not fall’n in fight. Farewell.”
“Farewell, fair Prince,” answer’d the stately Queen.
“Be prosperous in this journey, as in all;
And may you light on all things that you love,
And live to wed with her whom first you love :
But ere you wed with any, bring your bride,
And I, were she the daughter of a king.
Yea, tho’ she were a beggar from the hedge,
Will clothe her for her bridals like the sun.”
8
IDYLLS OF THE KING
D Prince Geraint, now thinking that he heard
The noble hart at bay, now the far horn,
A little vext at losing of the hunt,
A little at the vile occasion, rode.
By ups and downs, thro’ many a grassy glade
And valley, with fixt eye following the three.
At last they issued from the world of wood.
And climb'd upon a fair and even ridge.
And show’d themselves against the sky, and sank.
And thither came Geraint, and underneath
Beheld the long street of a little town
In a long valley, on one side of which.
White from the mason’s hand, a fortress rose;
And on one side a castle in decay.
Beyond a bridge that spann'd a dry ravine:
And out of town and valley came a noise
As of a broad brook o’er a shingly bed
Brawling, or like a clamour of the rooks
At distance, ere they settle for the night.
And onward to the fortress rode the three,
And enter’d, and were lost behind the walls.
' ‘ So, ’’ thought Geraint, “I have track’d him to his earth.”
And down the long street riding wearily.
Found every hostel full, and everywhere
Was hammer laid to hoof, and the hot hiss
And bustling whistle of the youth who scour’d
His master’s armour; and of such a one
He ask’d, “What means the tumult in the town?”
Who told him, scouring still, “The sparrow-hawk!”
Then riding close behind an ancient churl,
9
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Who, smitten by the dusty sloping beam,
Went sweating underneath a sack of corn,
Ask’d yet once more what meant the hubbub here?
Who answer’d gruffly, “Ugh! the sparrow-hawk.”
Then riding further past an armourer’s.
Who, with back turn’d, and bow’d above his work,
Sat riveting a helmet on his knee.
He put the self-same query, but the man
Not turning round, nor looking at him, said:
“Friend, he that labours for the sparrow-hawk
Has little time for idle questioners. ”
Whereat Geraint flash’d into sudden spleen :
“A thousand pips eat up your sparrow-hawk!
Tits, wrens, and all wing’d nothings peck him dead !
Ye think the rustic cackle of your bourg
The murmur of the world ! What is it to me?
O wretched set of sparrows, one and all.
Who pipe of nothing but of sparrow-hawks!
Speak, if you be not like the rest, hawk-mad.
Where can I get me harbourage for the night?
And arms, arms, arms to fight my enemy? Speak!”
At this the armourer, turning all amazed
And seeing one so gay in purple silks.
Came forward with the helmet yet in hand
And answer’d, “Pardon me, O stranger knight;
We hold a tourney here to-morrow morn,
And there is scantly time for half the work.
Arms ? truth ! I know not : all are wanted here.
Harbourage? truth, good truth, I know not, save,
It may be, at Earl Yniol’s, o’er the bridge
Yonder.” He spoke and fell to work again.
in
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Then rode Geraint, a little spleenful yet,
Across the bridge that spann’d the dry ravine.
There musing sat the hoary-headed Earl
(His dress a suit of fray’d magnificence.
Once fit for feasts of ceremony), and said :
“Whither, fair son?” to whom Geraint replied,
“O friend, I seek a harbourage for the night.”
Then Yniol, “ Enter therefore and partake
The slender entertainment of a house
Once rich, now poor, but ever open-door’d.”
“Thanks, venerable friend,” replied Geraint;
“So that you do not serve me sparrow-hawks
For supper, I will enter, I will eat
With all the passion of a twelve hours’ fast.”
Then sigh’d and smiled the hoary-headed Earl,
And answer’d, “Graver cause than yours is mine
To curse this hedgerow thief, the sparrow-hawk :
But in, go in ; for save yourself desire it.
We will not touch upon him ev’n in jest.”
Then rode Geraint into the castle court.
His charger trampling many a prickly star
Of sprouted thistle on the broken stones.
He look’d and saw that all was ruinous.
Here stood a shatter’d archway plumed with fern
And here had fall’n a great part of a tower,
Whole, like a crag that tumbles from the cliff.
And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers :
And high above a piece of turret stair.
Worn by the feet that now were silent, wound
Bare to the sun, and monstrous ivy-stems
11
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Claspt the grey walls with hairy-fibred arms,
And suck’d the joining of the stones, and look’d
A knot, beneath, of snakes, aloft, a grove.
And while he waited in the castle court.
The voice of Enid, Yniol’s daughter, rang
Clear thro’ the open casement of the hall.
Singing ; and as the sweet voice of a bird.
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle.
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is
That sings so delicately clear, and make
Conjecture of the plumage and the form ;
So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint;
And made him like a man abroad at morn
When first the liquid note beloved of men
Comes flying over many a windy wave
To Britain, and in April suddenly
Breaks from a coppice gemm’d with green and red,
And he suspends his converse with a friend.
Or it may be the labour of his hands.
To think or say, “ There is the nightingale; ”
So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said,
“Here, by God’s grace, is the one voice for me.”
It chanced the song that Enid sang was one
Of Fortune and her wheel, and Enid sang :
“ Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the
proud ;
Turn thy wild wheel thro’ sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
12
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down ;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
“Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands ;
For man is man and master of his fate.
“Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ;
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud ;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.”
“Hark, by the bird’s song you may learn the nest,”
Said Yniol ; “Enter quickly.” Entering then,
Right o’er a mount of newly-fallen stones.
The dusky-rafter’d many-cobweb’d hall.
He found an ancient dame in dim brocade ;
And near her, like a blossom vermeil-white,
That lightly breaks a faded flower-sheath.
Moved the fair Enid, all in faded silk.
Her daughter. In a moment thought Geraint,
“Here by God’s rood is the one maid for me.”
But none spake word except the hoary Earl :
“Enid, the good knight’s horse stands in the court ;
Take him to stall, and give him corn, and then
Go to the town and buy us flesh and wine ;
And we will make us merry as we may.
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.”
He spake: the Prince, as Enid past him, fain
To follow, strode a stride, but Yniol caught
13
IDYLLS OF THE KING
His purple scarf, and held, and said, “Forbear!
Rest ! the good house, though ruin’d, O my son.
Endures not that her guest should serve himself.”
And reverencing the custom of the house,
Geraint, from utter courtesy, forbore.
So Enid took his charger to the stall ;
And after went her way across the bridge.
And reach’d the town, and while the Prince and Earl
Yet spoke together, came again with one,
A youth, that following with a costrel bore
The means of goodly welcome, flesh and wine.
And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer,
And in her veil enfolded, manchet bread.
And then, because their hall must also serve
For kitchen, boil’d the flesh, and spread the board,
And stood behind, and waited on the three.
And seeing her so sweet and serviceable,
Geraint had longing in him evermore
To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb.
That crost the trencher as she laid it down :
But after all had eaten, then Geraint,
For now the wine made summer in his veins,
Let his eye rove in following, or rest
On Enid, at her lowly handmaid-work,
Now here, now there, about the dusky hall;
Then suddenly addrest the hoary Earl :
“ Fair Host and Earl, I pray your courtesy ;
This sparrow-hawk, what is he, tell me of him.
His name ? but no, good faith, I will not have it :
14
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'4'
IDYLLS OF THE KING
For if he be the knight whom late I saw
Ride into that new fortress by your town,
White from the mason’s hand, then have I sworn
From his own lips to have it — I am Geraint
Of Devon — for this morning when the Queen
Sent her own maiden to demand the name.
His dwarf, a vicious under-shapen thing.
Struck at her with his whip, and she return’d
Indignant to the Queen ; and then I swore
That I would track this caitiff to his hold.
And fight and break his pride, and have it of him.
And all unarm’d I rode, and thought to find
Arms in your town, where all the men are mad ;
They take the rustic murmur of their bourg
For the great wave that echoes round the world ;
They would not hear me speak : but if you know
Where I can light on arms, or if yourself
Should have them, tell me, seeing I have sworn
That I will break his pride and learn his name.
Avenging this great insult done the Queen.”
HEN cried Earl Yniol, “ Art thou he indeed
Geraint, a name far-sounded among men
For noble deeds? and truly I, when first
I saw you moving by me on the bridge.
Felt you were somewhat, yea and by your
state
And presence might have guess’d you one of those
That eat in Arthur’s hall at Gamelot.
Nor speak I now from foolish flattery ;
For this dear child hath often heard me praise
15
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Your feats of arms, and often when I paused
Hath ask’d again, and ever loved to hear ;
So grateful is the noise of noble deeds
To noble hearts who see but acts of wrong :
0 never yet had woman such a pair
Of suitors as this maiden ; first Limours,
A creature wholly given to brawls and wine.
Drunk even when he woo’d ; and be he dead
1 know not, but he past to the wild land.
The second was your foe the sparrow-hawk,
My curse, my nephew — I will not let his name
Slip from my lips if I can help it — he.
When I that knew him fierce and turbulent
Refused her to him, then his pride awoke ;
And since the proud man often is the mean,
He sow’d a slander in the common ear.
Affirming that his father left him gold.
And in my charge, which was not render’d to him ;
Bribed with large promises the men who served
About my person, the more easily
Because my means were somewhat broken into
Thro’ open doors and hospitality ;
Raised my own town against me in the night
Before my Enid’s birthday, sack’d my house ;
From mine own earldom foully ousted me ;
Built that new fort to overawe my friends.
For truly there are those who love me yet ;
And keeps me in this ruinous castle here.
Where doubtless he would put me soon to death,
But that his pride too much despises me :
And I myself sometimes despise myself ;
16
IDYLLS OF THE KING
For I have let men be, and have their way ;
Am much too gentle, have not used my power :
Nor know I whether I be very base
Or very manful, whether very wise
Or very foolish ; only this I know.
That whatsoever evil happen to me,
I seem to suffer nothing heart or limb,
But can endure it all most patiently.”
“Well said, true heart,” replied Geraint, “but arms:
That if, as I suppose, your nephew fights
In next day’s tourney I may break his pride.”
D Yniol answered, “Arms, indeed, but old
And rusty, old and rusty. Prince Geraint,
Are mine, and therefore at your asking,
yours.
But in this tournament can no man tilt.
Except the lady he loves best be there.
Two forks are fixt into the meadow ground.
And over these is laid a silver wand.
And over that is placed the sparrow-hawk,
The prize of beauty for the fairest there.
And this, what knight soever be in field
Lays claims to for the lady at his side.
And tilts with my good nephew thereupon.
Who being apt at arms and big of bone
Has ever won it for the lady with him.
And toppling over all antagonism
Has earn’d himself the name of sparrow-hawk.
But you, that have no lady, cannot fight.”
17
IDYLLS OF THE KING
To whom Geraint with eyes all bright replied,
Leaning a little toward him, “Your leave!
Let me lay lance in rest, O noble host.
For this dear child, because I never saw,
Tho’ having seen all beauties of our time,
Nor can see elsewhere, anything so fair.
And if I fall her name will yet remain
Untarnish’d as before ; but if I live,
So aid me Heaven when at mine uttermost,
As I will make her truly my true wife.”
Then, howsoever patient, Yniol’s heart
Danced in his bosom, seeing better days.
And looking round he saw not Enid there,
(Who hearing her own name had slipt away)
But that old dame, to whom full tenderly
And fondling all her hand in his he said,
“ Mother, a maiden is a tender thing,
And best by her that bore her understood.
Go thou to rest, but ere thou go to rest
Tell her, and prove her heart toward the Prince.”
O spake the kindly-hearted Earl, and she
With frequent smile and nod departing found.
Half disarray’d as to her rest, the girl ;
Whom first she kiss’d on either cheek, and then
On either shining shoulder laid a hand.
And kept her off and gazed upon her face.
And told her all their converse in the hall.
Proving her heart; but never light and shade
Coursed one another more on open ground
18
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale
Across the face of Enid hearing her ;
While slowly falling as a scale that falls,
When weight is added only grain by grain,
Sank her sweet head upon her gentle breast ;
Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word.
Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it ;
So moving without answer to her rest
She found no rest, and ever fail’d to draw
The quiet night into her blood, but lay
Contemplating her own unworthiness ;
And when the pale and bloodless east began
To quicken to the sun, arose, and raised
Her mother too, and hand in hand they moved
Down to the meadow where the jousts were held.
And waited there for Yniol and Geraint.
And thither came the twain, and when Geraint
Beheld her first in field awaiting him.
He felt, were she the prize of bodily force.
Himself beyond the rest pushing could move
The chair of Idris. Yniol’s rusted arms
Were on his princely person, but thro’ these
Princelike his bearing shone ; and errant knights
And ladies came, and by and by the town
Flow’d in, and settling circled all the lists.
And there they fixt the forks into the ground.
And over these they placed a silver wand
And over that a golden sparrow-hawk.
Then Yniol’s nephew, after trumpet blown.
Spake to the lady with him and proclaim’d,
19
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“ Advance and take as fairest of the fair,
For I these two years past have won it for thee,
The prize of beauty.” Loudly spake the Prince,
“Forbear: there is a worthier,” and the knight
With some surprise and thrice as much disdain
Turn’d, and beheld the four, and all his face
Glow’d like the heart of a great fire at Yule,
So burnt he was with passion, crying out,
“Do battle for it then,” no more; and thrice
They clash’d together, and thrice they brake their spears.
Then each, dishorsed and drawing, lash’d at each
So often and with such blows, that all the crowd
Wonder’d, and now and then from distant walls
There came a clapping as of phantom hands.
So twice they fought, and twice they breathed, and still
The dew of their great labour, and the blood
Of their strong bodies, flowing, drain’d their force.
But either ’s force was match’d till Yniol’s cry,
“Remember that great insult done the Queen,”
Increased Geraint’s, who heaved his blade aloft.
And crack’d the helmet thro’, and bit the bone,
And fell’d him, and set foot upon his breast.
And said, “Thy name?” To whom the fallen man
Made answer, groaning, “ Edyrn, son of Nudd!
Ashamed am I that I should tell it thee.
My pride is broken : men have seen my fall. ”
“Then, Edyrn, son of Nudd,” replied Geraint,
“These two things shalt thou do, or else thou diest.
First, thou thyself, thy lady, and thy dwarf,
Shalt ride to Arthur’s court, and being there.
Grave pardon for that insult done the Queen,
20
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And shalt abide her judgement on it ; next,
Thou shalt give back their earldom to thy kin.
These two things shalt thou do, or thou shalt die.”
And Edyrn answer’d, “These things will I do,
For I have never yet been overthrown.
And thou hast overthrown me, and my pride
Is broken down, for Enid sees my fall ! ”
And rising up, he rode to Arthur’s court,
And there the Queen forgave him easily.
And being young, he changed himself, and grew
To hate the sin that seem’d so like his own
Of Modred, Arthur’s nephew, and fell at last
In the great battle fighting for the king.
UT when the third day from the hunting-morn
Made a low splendour in the world, and wings
Moved in her ivy, Enid, for she lay
With her fair head in the dim-yellow light.
Among the dancing shadows of the birds.
Woke and bethought her of her promise given
No later than last eve to Prince Geraint —
So bent he seem’d on going the third day.
He would not leave her till her promise given —
To ride with him this morning to the court.
And there be made known to the stately Queen,
And there be wedded with all ceremony.
At this she cast her eyes upon her dress.
And thought it never yet had look’d so mean.
For as a leaf in mid-November is
To what it was in mid-October, seem’d
The dress that now she look’d on to the dress
21
IDYLLS OF THE KING
She look’d on ere the coming of Geraint.
And still she look’d, and still the terror grew
Of that strange bright and dreadful thing, a court.
All staring at her in her faded silk :
And softly to her own sweet heart she said :
“This noble Prince who won our earldom back.
So splendid in his acts and his attire.
Sweet Heaven, how much I shall discredit him !
Would he could tarry with us here awhile!
But being so beholden to the Prince,
It were but little grace in any of us.
Bent as he seem’d on going this third day.
To seek a second favour at his hands.
Yet if he could but tarry a day or two.
Myself would work eye dim, and finger lame,
Far liefer than so much discredit him.”
And Enid fell in longing for a dress
All branch’d and flower’d with gold, a costly gift
Of her good mother, given her on the night
Before her birthday, three sad years ago.
That night of fire, when Edyrn sack’d their house,
And scatter’d all they had to all the winds :
For while the mother show’d it, and the two
Were turning and admiring it, the work
To both appear’d so costly, rose a cry
That Edyrn’s men were on them, and they fled
With little save the jewels they had on.
Which being sold and sold had bought them bread :
And Edyrn’s men had caught them in their flight,
22
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And placed them in this ruin ; and she wish’d
The Prince had found her in her ancient home ;
Then let her fancy flit across the past.
And roam the goodly places that she knew :
And last bethought her how she used to watch,
Near that old home, a pool of golden carp ;
And one was patch’d and blurr’d and lustreless
Among his burnish’d brethren of the pool ;
And half asleep she made comparison
Of that and these to her own faded self
And the gay court, and fell asleep again;
And dreamt herself was such a faded form
Among her burnish’d sisters of the pool ;
But this was in the garden of a king ;
And tho’ she lay dark in the pool, she knew
That all was bright ; that all about were birds
Of sunny plume in gilded trellis-work ;
That all the turf was rich in plots that look’d
Each like a garnet or a turkis in it ;
And lords and ladies of the high court went
In silver tissue talking things of state ;
And children of the king in cloth of gold
Glanced at the doors or gambol’d down the walks ;
And while she thought “they will not see me,” came
A stately queen whose name was Guinevere,
And all the children in their cloth of gold
Ran to her, crying, “ If we have fish at all
Let them be gold ; and charge the gardeners now
To pick the faded creature from the pool,
And cast it on the mixen that it die.”
And therewithal one came and seized on her,
23
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And Enid started waking, with her heart
All overshadow’d by the foolish dream,
And lo ! it was her mother grasping her
To get her well awake ; and in her hand
A suit of bright apparel, which she laid
Flat on the couch, and spoke exultingly :
“ See here, my child, how fresh the colours look,
How fast they hold like colours of a shell
That keeps the wear and polish of the wave.
Why not? it never yet was worn, I trow:
Look on it, child, and tell me if you know it.”
ND Enid look’d, but all confused at first,
Gould scarce divide it from her foolish dream •
Then suddenly she knew it and rejoiced.
And answer’d, ‘‘Yea, I know it; your good
gift,
So sadly lost on that unhappy night ;
Your own good gift!” ‘‘Yea, surely,” said the dame,
“ And gladly given again this happy morn.
For when the jousts were ended yesterday.
Went Yniol through the town, and everywhere
He found the sack and plunder of the house
All scatter’d thro’ the houses of the town ;
And gave command that all which once was ours,
Should now be ours again : and yester-eve.
While you were talking sweetly with your Prince,
Game one with this and laid it in my hand.
For love or fear, or seeking favour of us.
Because we have our earldom back again.
24
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And yester-eve I would not tell you of it,
But kept it for a sweet surprise at morn.
Yea, truly is it not a sweet surprise?
For I myself unwillingly have worn
My faded suit, as you, my child, have yours.
And howsoever patient, Yniol his.
Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house.
With store of rich apparel, sumptuous fare.
And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal.
And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all
That appertains to noble maintenance.
Yea, and he brought me to a goodly house ;
But since our fortune slipt from sun to shade.
And all thro’ that young traitor, cruel need
Constrain’d us, but a better time has come ;
So clothe yourself in this, that better fits
Our mended fortunes and a Prince’s bride :
For tho’ you won the prize of fairest fair.
And tho’ I heard him call you fairest fair,
Let never maiden think, however fair.
She is not fairer in new clothes than old.
And should some great court-lady say, the Prince
Hath pick’d a ragged-robin from the hedge.
And like a madman brought her to the court.
Then were you shamed, and, worse, might shame the Prince
To whom we are beholden ; but I know.
When my dear child is set forth at her best.
That neither court nor country, tho’ they sought
Thro’ all the provinces like those of old
That lighted on Queen Esther, has her match.”
25
IDYLLS OF THE KING
ERE ceased the kindly mother out of breath ;
And Enid listen’d brightening as she lay ;
Then, as the white and glittering star of morn
Parts from a bank of snow, and by and by
Slips into golden cloud, the maiden rose.
And left her maiden couch, and robed herself.
Help’d by the mother’s careful hand and eye.
Without a mirror, in the gorgeous gown ;
Who, after, turn’d her daughter round, and said.
She never yet had seen her half so fair ;
And call’d her like that maiden in the tale.
Whom Gwydion made by glamour out of flowers,
And sweeter than the bride of Gassivelaun,
Flur, for whose love the Roman Caesar first
Invaded Britain, “but we beat him back.
As this great Prince invaded us, and we.
Not beat him back, but welcomed him with joy.
And I can scarcely ride with you to court.
For old am I, and rough the ways and wild ;
But Yniol goes, and I full oft shall dream
I see my princess as I see her now.
Clothed with my gift and gay among the gay.”
But while the women thus rejoiced, Geraint
Woke where he slept in the high hall, and call’d
For Enid, and when Yniol made report
Of that good mother making Enid gay
In such apparel as might well beseem
His princess, or indeed the stately Queen,
He answer’d: “Earl, entreat her by my love.
Albeit I give no reason but my wish,
26
IDYLLS OF THE KING
That she ride with me in her faded silk.”
Yniol with that hard message went ; it fell,
Like flaws in summer laying lusty corn :
For Enid, all abash’d she knew not why,
Dared not to glance at her good mother’s face,
But silently, in all obedience.
Her mother silent too, nor helping her.
Laid from her limbs the costly broider’d gift.
And robed them in her ancient suit again
And so descended. Never man rejoiced
More than Geraint to greet her thus attired ;
And glancing all at once as keenly at her,
As careful robins eye the delver’s toil.
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall.
But rested with her sweet face satisfied ;
Then seeing cloud upon the mother’s brow.
Her by both hands he caught, and sweetly said,
“O my new mother, be not wroth or grieved
At your new son, for my petition to her.
When late I left Gaerleon, our great Queen,
In words whose echo lasts, they were so sweet.
Made promise, that whatever bride I brought.
Herself would clothe her like the sun in He’aven.
Thereafter, when I reach’d this ruin’d hold.
Beholding one so bright in dark estate,
I vow’d that could I gain her, our kind Queen,
No hand but hers, should make your Enid burst
Sunlike from cloud — and likewise thought perhaps,
That service done so graciously would bind
The two together ; for I wish the two
27
IDYLLS OF THE KING
To love each other : how should Enid find
A nobler friend ? Another thought I had ;
I came among you here so suddenly,
That tho’ her gentle presence at the lists
Might well have served for proof that I was loved,
I doubted whether filial tenderness.
Or easy nature, did not let itself
Be moulded by your wishes for her weal ;
Or whether some false sense in her own self
Of my contrasting brightness, overbore
Her fancy dwelling in this dusky hall ;
And such a sense might make her long for court
And all its dangerous glories: and I thought
That could I someway prove such force in her
Link’d with such love for me, that at a word
(No reason given her) she could cast aside
A splendour dear to women, new to her,
And therefore dearer ; or if not so new.
Yet therefore tenfold dearer by the power
Of intermitted custom ; then I felt
That I could rest, a rock in ebbs and flows,
Fixt on her faith. Now, therefore, I do rest,
A prophet certain of my prophecy.
That never shadow of mistrust can cross
Between us. Grant me pardon for my thoughts ;
And for my strange petition I will make
Amends hereafter by some gaudy-day.
When your fair child shall wear your costly gift
Beside your own warm hearth, with, on her knees,
Who knows? another gift of the high God,
Which, maybe, shall have learned to lisp you thanks.”
28
IDYLLS OF THE KING
He spoke : the mother smiled, but half in tears,
Then brought a mantle down and wrapt her in it.
And claspt and kiss’d her, and they rode away.
OW thrice that morning Guinevere had climb’d
The giant tower, from whose high crest,
they say,
Men saw the goodly hills of Somerset,
And white sails flying on the yellow sea :
But not to goodly hill or yellow sea
Look’d the fair Queen, but up the vale of Usk,
By the flat meadow, till she saw them come ;
And then descending met them at the gates.
Embraced her with all welcome as a friend.
And did her honour as the Prince’s bride,
And clothed her for her bridals like the sun ;
And all that week was old Caerleon gay.
For by the hands of Dubric, the high saint.
They twain were wedded with all ceremony.
And this was on the last year’s Whitsuntide.
But Enid ever kept the faded silk.
Remembering how first he came on her,
Drest in that dress, and how he loved her in it,
And all her foolish fears about the dress.
And all his journey toward her, as himself
Had told her, and their coming to the court.
And now this morning when he said to her,
“Put on your worst and meanest dress,” she found
And took it, and array’d herself therein.
29
IDYLLS OF THE KING
O purblind race of miserable men,
How many among us at this very hour
Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves,
By taking true for false, or false for true ;
Here, thro’ the feeble twilight of this world
Groping, how many, until we pass and reach
That other, where we see as we are seen !
O fared it with Geraint, who issuing forth
That morning, when they both had got to
horse.
Perhaps because he loved her passionately,
And felt that tempest brooding round his
heart,
Which, if he spoke at all, would break perforce
Upon a head so dear in thunder, said :
“Not at my side. I charge you ride before,
Ever a good way on before ; and this
I charge you, on your duty as a wife.
Whatever happens, not to speak to me.
No, not a word!” and Enid was aghast;
And forth they rode, but scarce three paces on.
When crying out “ Effeminate as I am,
I will not fight my way with gilded arms,
All shall be iron ; ” he loosed a mighty purse,
Hung at his belt, and hurl’d it toward the squire.
So the last sight that Enid had of home
Was all the marble threshold flashing, strown
With gold and scatter’d coinage, and the squire
Chafing his shoulder : then he cried again,
“To the wilds!” and Enid leading down the tracks
30
Yniol’s rusted arms
Were on his princely person, but thro’ these
Princelike his bearing shone.
Page 1 9
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
Thro’ which he bade her lead him on, they past
The marches, and by bandit-haunted holds.
Grey swamps and pools, waste places of the hern.
And wildernesses, perilous paths, they rode :
Round was their pace at first, but slacken’d soon:
A stranger meeting them had surely thought
They rode so slowly and they look’d so pale,
That each had suffer’d some exceeding wrong.
For he was ever saying to himself,
“ O I that wasted time to tend upon her.
To compass her with sweet observances,
To dress her beautifully and keep her true” —
And there he broke the sentence in his heart
Abruptly, as a man upon his tongue
May break it, when his passion masters him.
And she was ever praying the sweet heavens
To save her dear lord whole from any wound.
And ever in her mind she cast about
For that unnoticed failing in herself,
Which made him look so cloudy and so cold ;
Till the great plover’s human whistle amazed
Her heart, and glancing round the waste she fear’d
In every wavering brake an ambuscade.
Then thought again, “If there be such in me,
I might amend it by the grace of Heaven,
If he would only speak and tell me of it.”
But when the fourth part of the day was gone,
Then Enid was aware of three tall knights
On horseback, wholly arm’d, behind a rock
In shadow, waiting for them, caitiffs all ;
31
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And heard one crying to his fellow, “ Look,
Here comes a laggard hanging down his head,
Who seems no bolder than a beaten hound;
Gome, we will slay him and will have his horse
And armour, and his damsel shall be ours.”
Then Enid ponder’d in her heart, and said:
“I will go back a little to my lord.
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk ;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me.
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die.
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.”
Then she went back some paces of return.
Met his full frown timidly firm, and said :
“ My lord, I saw three bandits by the rock
Waiting to fall on you, and heard them boast
That they would slay you, and possess your horse
And armour, and your damsel should be theirs.”
He made a wrathful answer. “Did I wish
Your warning or your silence? one command
I laid upon you, not to speak to me,
And thus you keep it! Well then, look — for now.
Whether you wish me victory or defeat.
Long for my life, or hunger for my death.
Yourself shall see my vigour is not lost.”
Then Enid waited pale and sorrowful,
And down upon him bare the bandit three.
And at the midmost charging. Prince Geraint
32
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Drave the long spear a cubit thro* his breast
And out beyond; and then against his brace
Of comrades, each of whom had broken on him
A lance that splinter’d like an icicle,
Swung from his brand a windy buffet out
Once, twice, to right, to left, and stunn’d the twain
Or slew them, and dismounting like a man
That skins the wild beast after slaying him,
Stript from the three dead wolves of woman born
The three gay suits of armour which they wore.
And let the bodies lie, but bound the suits
Of armour on their horses, each on each.
And tied the bridle-reins of all the three
Together, and said to her, “ Drive them on
Before you;” and she drove them thro* the waste.
E follow’d nearer : ruth began to work
Against his anger in him, while he watch’d
The being he loved best in all the world,
With difficulty in mild obedience
Driving them on : he fain had spoken to her,
And loosed in words of sudden fire the wrath
And smoulder’d wrong that burnt him all within ;
But evermore it seem’d an easier thing
At once without remorse to strike her dead,
Than to cry “Halt,” and to her own bright face
Accuse her of the least immodesty :
And thus tongue-tied, it made him wroth the more
That she could speak whom his own ear had heard
Call herself false : and suffering thus he made
Minutes an age : but in scarce longer time
33
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Than at Gaerleon the full-tided Usk,
Before he turn to fall seaward again,
Pauses, did Enid, keeping watch, behold
In the first shallow shade of a deep wood.
Before a gloom of stubborn-shafted oaks.
Three other horsemen waiting, wholly arm’d.
Whereof one seem’d far larger than her lord.
And shook her pulses, crying, ‘ ‘ Look, a prize !
Three horses and three goodly suits of arms.
And all in charge of whom? a girl : set on.”
“ Nay,” said the second, “yonder comes a knight.”
The third, “A craven; how he hangs his head.”
The giant answer’d merrily, ‘Yea, but one?
Wait here, and when he passes fall upon him.”
D Enid ponder’d in her heart and said,
“ I will abide the coming of my lord.
And I will tell him all their villany.
My lord is weary with the fight before.
And they will fall upon him unawares.
I needs must disobey him for his good ;
How should I dare obey him to his harm?
Needs must I speak, and tho’ he kill me for it,
I save a life dearer to me-than mine.”
And she abode his coming, and said to him
With timid firmness, “Have I leave to speak?”
He said, “You take it, speaking,” and she spoke.
“There lurk three villains yonder in the wood.
And each of them is wholly arm’d, and one
34
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Is larger-limb’d than you are, and they say
That they will fall upon you while you pass.”
To which he flung a wrathful answer back :
“ And if there were an hundred in the wood,
And every man were larger-limb’d than I,
And all at once should sally out upon me,
I swear it would not ruffle me so much
As you that not obey me. Stand aside.
And if I fall, cleave to the better man.”
And Enid stood aside to wait the event.
Not dare to watch the combat, only breathe
Short fits of prayer, at every stroke a breath.
And he, she dreaded most, bare down upon him.
Aim’d at the helm, his lance err’d ; but Geraint’s,
A little in the late encounter strain’d,
Struck thro’ the bulky bandit’s corslet home,
And then brake short, and down his enemy roll’d,
And there lay still ; as he that tells the tale.
Saw once a great piece of a promontory,
That had a sapling growing on it, slip
From the long shore-clifTs windy walls to the beach.
And there lie still, and yet the sapling grew :
So lay the man transfixt. His craven pair
Of comrades, making slowlier at the Prince,
When now they saw their bulwark fallen, stood ;
On whom the victor, to confound them more,
Spurr’d with his terrible war-cry ; for as one.
That listens near a torrent mountain-brook.
All thro’ the crash of the near cataract hears
35
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The drumming thunder of the huger fall
At distance were the soldiers wont to hear
His voice in battle, and be kindled by it,
And foemen scared, like that false pair who turn’d
Flying, but, overtaken, died the death
Themselves had wrought on many an innocent.
Thereon Geraint, dismounting, pick’d the lance
That pleased him best, and drew from those dead wolves
Their three gay suits of armour, each from each.
And bound them on their horses, each on each.
And tied the bridle-reins of all the three
Together, and said to her, “ Drive them on
Before you,” and she drove them thro’ the wood.
He follow’d nearer still : the pain she had
To keep them in the wild ways of the wood.
Two sets of three laden with jingling arms.
Together, served a little to disedge
The sharpness of that pain about her heart :
And they themselves, like creatures gently born
But into bad hands fall’n, and now so long
By bandits groom’d, prick’d their light ears, and felt
Her low firm voice and tender government.
So thro’ the green gloom of the wood they past,
And issuing under open heavens beheld
A little town with towers, upon a rock.
And close beneath, a meadow gemlike chased
In the brown wild, and mowers mowing in it :
And down a rocky pathway from the place
36
IDYLLS OF THE KING
There came a fair-hair’d youth, that in his hand
Bare victual for the mowers : and Geraint
Had ruth again on Enid looking pale :
Then, moving downward to the meadow ground.
He, when the fair-hair’d youth came by him, said,
“ Friend, let her eat ; the damsel is so faint.”
“Yea, willingly,” replied the youth; “and you,
My lord, eat also, tho’ the fare is coarse.
And only meet for mowers ; ” then set down
His basket, and dismounting on the sward
They let the horses graze, and ate themselves.
And Enid took a little delicately.
Less having stomach for it than desire
To close with her lord’s pleasure ; but Geraint
Ate all the mowers’ victuals unawares.
And when he found all empty, was amazed ;
And “ Boy,” said he, “I have eaten all, but take
A horse and arms for guerdon; choose the best.”
He, reddening in extremity of delight,
“My lord, you overpay me fifty-fold.”
“You will be all the wealthier,” cried the Prince.
“ I take it as free gift, then, ’ said the boy,
“Not guerdon; for myself can easily.
While your good damsel rests, return, and fetch
Fresh victual for these mowers of our Earl ;
For these are his, and all the field is his.
And I myself am his ; and I will tell him
How great a man you are ; he loves to know
When men of mark are in his territory :
And he will have you to his palace here,
And serve you costlier than with mowers’ fare.”
37
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Then said Geraint, “ I wish no better fare :
I never ate with angrier appetite
Than when I left your mowers dinnerless.
And into no Earl’s palace will I go.
I know, God knows, too much of palaces !
And if he want me, let him come to me.
But hire us some fair chamber for the night.
And stalling for the horses, and return
With victual for these men, and let us know.”
“Yea, my kind lord,” said the glad youth, and went,
Held his head high, and thought himself a knight.
And up the rocky pathway disappear’d.
Leading the horse, and they were left alone.
UT when the Prince had brought his errant eyes
Home from the rock, sideways he let them
glance
At Enid, where she droopt : his own false
doom.
That shadow of mistrust should never cross
Betwixt them, came upon him, and he sigh’d ;
Then with another humorous ruth remark’d
The lusty mowers labouring dinnerless.
And watch’d the sun blaze on the turning scythe,
And after nodded sleepily in the heat.
But she, remembering her old ruin’d hall,
And all the windy clamour of the daws
About her hollow’ turret, pluck’d the grass
There growing longest by the meadow’s edge,
And into many a listless annulet,
38
‘77he\) rode so slowly and they lookd so pale.
Page 3 1
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Now over, now beneath her marriage ring,
Wove and unwove it, till the boy return’d
And told them of a chamber, and they went ;
Where, after saying to her, “If you will.
Gall for the woman of the house,” to which
She answer’d, ‘ ‘ Thanks, my lord ; ” the two remain
Apart by all the chamber’s width, and mute
As creatures voiceless thro’ the fault of birth,
Or two wild men supporters of a shield.
Painted, who stare at open space, nor glance
The one at other, parted by the shield.
On a sudden, many a voice along the street.
And heel against the pavement echoing, burst
Their drowse ; and either started while the door.
Push’d from without, drave backward to the wall,
And midmost of a rout of roisterers.
Femininely fair and dissolutely pale.
Her suitor in old years before Geraint,
Enter’d, the wild lord of the place, Limours.
He moving up with pliant courtliness.
Greeted Geraint full face, but stealthily.
In the mid-warmth of welcome and graspt hand.
Found Enid with the corner of his eye.
And knew her sitting sad and solitary.
Then cried Geraint for wine and goodly cheer
To feed the sudden guest, and sumptuously
According to his fashion, bade the host
Call in what men soever were his friends.
And feast with these in honour of their earl ;
“And care not for the cost; the cost is mine.”
39
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And wine and food were brought, and Earl Limours
Drank till he jested with all ease, and told
Free tales, and took the word and play’d upon it,
And made it of two colours ; for his talk,
When wine and free companions kindled him.
Was wont to glance and sparkle like a gem
Of fifty facets ; thus he moved the Prince
To laughter and his comrades to applause.
Then, when the Prince was merry, ask’d Limours,
“Your leave, my lord, to cross the room, and speak
To your good damsel there who sits apart.
And seems so lonely?” “My free leave,” he said;
“Get her to speak: she does not speak to me.”
Then rose Limours and looking at his feet,
Like him who tries the bridge he fears may fail,
Grost and came near, lifted adoring eyes,
Bow’d at her side and utter’d whisperingly :
“ Enid, the pilot star of my lone life,
Enid, my early and my only love,
Enid, the loss of whom has turn’d me wild —
What chance is this? how is it I see you here?
You are in my power at last, are in my power.
Yet fear me not : I call mine own self wild,
But keep a touch of sweet civility
Here in the heart of waste and wilderness.
I thought, but that your father came between.
In former days you saw me favourably.
And if it were so do not keep it back :
Make me a little happier : let me know it :
Owe you me nothing for a life half-lost ?
40
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Yea, yea, the whole dear debt of all you are.
And, Enid, you and he, I see it with joy —
You sit apart, you do not speak to him.
You come with no attendance, page or maid,
To serve you — does he love you as of old?
For, call it lovers' quarrels, yet I know
Tho’ men may bicker with the things they love.
They would not make them laughable in all eyes,
Not while they loved them ; and your wretched dress,
A wretched insult on you, dumbly speaks
Your story, that this man loves you no more.
Your beauty is no beauty to him now :
A common chance — right well I know it — pall’d —
For I know men : nor will you win him back.
For the man’s love once gone never returns.
But here is one who loves you as of old ;
With more exceeding passion than of old :
Good, speak the word : my followers ring him round :
He sits unarm’d; I hold a finger up;
They understand : no ; I do not mean blood :
Nor need you look so scared at what I say :
My malice is no deeper than a moat.
No stronger than a wall : there is the keep ;
He shall not cross us more ; speak but the word :
Or speak it not ; but then by Him that made me
The one true lover which you ever had,
I will make use of all the power I have.
O pardon me ! the madness of that hour.
When first I parted from you, moves me yet.”
At this the tender sound of his own voice
41
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And sweet self-pity, or the fancy of it,
Made his eye moist ; but Enid fear’d his eyes,
Moist as they were, wine-heated from the feast ;
And answer’d with such craft as women use,
Guilty or guiltless, to stave off a chance
That breaks upon them perilously, and said :
“Earl, if you love me as in former years,
And do not practise on me, come with morn.
And snatch me from him as by violence;
Leave me to-night : I am weary to the death.”
Low at leave-taking, with his brandish’d plume
Brushing his instep, bow’d the all-amorous Earl,
And the stout Prince bade him a loud good-night.
He moving homeward babbled to his men,
How Enid never loved a man but him.
Nor cared a broken egg-shell for her lord.
UT Enid left alone with Prince Geraint,
Debating his command of silence given,
And that she now perforce must violate it,
Held commune with herself, and while she
held
He fell asleep, and Enid had no heart
To wake him, but hung o’er him, wholly pleased
To find him yet unwounded after fight.
And hear him breathing low and equally.
Anon she rose, and stepping lightly, heap’d
The pieces of his armour in one place.
All to be there against a sudden need ;
42
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Then dozed awhile herself, but overtoil’d
By that day’s grief and travel, evermore
Seem’d catching at a rootless thorn, and then
Went slipping down horrible precipices,
And strongly striking out her limbs awoke ;
Then thought she heard the wild Earl at the door,
With all his rout of random followers,
Sound on a dreadful trumpet, summoning her;
Which was the red cock shouting to the light.
As the grey dawn stole o’er the dewy world.
And glimmer’d on his armour in the room.
And once again she rose to look at it.
But touch’d it unawares: jangling, the casque
Fell, and he started up and stared at her.
Then breaking his command of silence given,
She told him all that Earl Limours had said,
Except the passage that he loved her not ;
Nor left untold the craft herself had used ;
But ended with apology so sweet.
Low-spoken, and of so few words, and seem’d
So justified by that necessity.
That tho’ he thought “ was it for him she wept
In Devon?” he but gave a wrathful groan,
Saying, “Your sweet faces make good fellows fools
And traitors. Gall the host and bid him bring
Charger and palfrey.” So she glided out
Among the heavy breathings of the house.
And like a household Spirit at the walls
Beat, till she woke the sleepers, and return’d ;
Then tending her rough lord, tho’ all unask’d.
In silence, did him service as a squire ;
43
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Till issuing arm’d he found the host and cried,
“Thy reckoning, friend?” and ere he learnt it, “Take
Five horses and their armours ; ” and the host,
Suddenly honest, answer’d in amaze,
“ My lord, I scarce have spent the worth of one ! ”
“You will be all the wealthier,” said the Prince,
And then to Enid, “Forward! and to-day
I charge you, Enid, more especially.
What thing soever you may hear, or see.
Or fancy (tho’ I count it of small use
To charge you) that you speak not, but obey.”
And Enid answer’d, “Yea, my lord, I know
Your wish, and would obey; but riding first,
I hear the violent threats you do not hear,
I see the danger which you cannot see :
Then not to give you warning, that seems hard ;
Almost beyond me : yet I would obey.”
“Yea so,” said he, “do it: be not too wise;
Seeing that you are wedded to a man,
Not quite mismated with a yawning clown.
But one with arms to guard his head and yours.
With eyes to find you out however far.
And ears to hear you even in his dreams.”
With that he turn’d and look’d as keenly at her
As careful robins eye the delver’s toil ;
And that within her, which a wanton fool.
Or hasty judger would have call’d her guilt,
44
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Made her cheek burn and either eyelid fall.
And Geraint look’d and was not satisfied.
HEN forward by a way which, beaten broad,
Led from the territory of false Limours
To the waste earldom of another earl,
Doorm, whom his shaking vassals call’d the Bull,
Went Enid with her sullen follower on.
Once she look’d back, and when she saw him ride
More near by many a rood than yestermorn.
It wellnigh made her cheerful ; till Geraint
Waving an angry hand as who should say
“You watch me,” sadden’d all her heart again.
But while the sun yet beat a dewy blade.
The sound of many a heavily-galloping hoof
Smote on her ear, and turning round she saw
Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it.
Then not to disobey her lord’s behest.
And yet to give him warning, for he rode
As if he heard not, moving back she held
Her finger up, and pointed to the dust.
At which the warrior in his obstinacy,
Because she kept the letter of his word.
Was in a manner pleased, and turning, stood.
And in the moment after, wild Limours,
Borne on a black horse, like a thunder-cloud
Whose skirts are loosen’d by the breaking storm.
Half ridden off with by the thing he rode.
And all in passion uttering a dry shriek.
Dash’d on Geraint, who closed with him, and bore
Down by the length of lance and arm beyond
45
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The crupper, and so left him stunn’d or dead,
And overthrew the next that follow’d him.
And blindly rush’d on all the rout behind.
But at the flash and motion of the man
They vanish’d panic-stricken, like a shoal
Of darting fish, that on a summer morn
Adown the crystal dykes at Gamelot
Gome slipping o’er their shadows on the sand.
But if a man who stands upon the brink
But lift a shining hand against the sun.
There is not left the twinkle of a fin
Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower ;
So, scared but at the motion of the man.
Fled all the boon companions of the Earl,
And left him lying in the public way ;
So vanish friendships only made in wine.
Then like a stormy sunlight smiled Geraint,
Who saw the chargers of the two that fell
Start from their fallen lords, and wildly fly,
Mixt with the flyers. “Horse and man,” he said,
“ All of one mind and all right-honest friends !
Not a hoof left : and I methinks till now
Was honest — paid with horses and with arms ;
I cannot steal or plunder, no nor beg :
And so what say you, shall we strip him there
Your lover? has your palfrey heart enough
To bear his armour? shall we fast, or dine?
No? — then do you, being right honest, pray
That we may meet the horsemen of Earl Doorm,
I too would still be honest. ” Thus he said :
46
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And sadly gazing on her bridle-reins,
And answering not one word, she led the way.
But as a man to whom a dreadful loss
Falls in a far land and he knows it not.
But coming back he learns it, and the loss
So pains him that he sickens nigh to death ;
So fared it with Geraint, who being prick’d
In combat with the follower of Limours,
Bled underneath his armour secretly.
And so rode on, nor told his gentle wife
What ail’d him, hardly knowing it himself.
Till his eye darken’d and his helmet wagg’d ;
And at a sudden swerving of the road,
Tho’ happily down on a bank of grass.
The Prince, without a word, from his horse fell.
And Enid heard the clashing of his fall.
Suddenly came, and at his side all pale
Dismounting, loosed the fastenings of his arms.
Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye
Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound.
And tearing off her veil of faded silk
Had bared her forehead to the blistering sun,
And swathed the hurt that drain’d her dear lord’s life.
Then after all was done that hand could do.
She rested, and her desolation came
Upon her, and she wept beside the way.
And many past, but none regarded her,
For in that realm of lawless turbulence,
47
IDYLLS OF THE KING
A woman weeping for her murder’d mate
Was cared as much for as a summer shower :
One took him for a victim of Earl Doorm,
Nor dared to waste a perilous pity on him ;
Another hurrying past, a man-at-arms,
Rode on a mission to the bandit Earl ;
Half whistling and half singing a coarse song.
He drove the dust against her veilless eyes :
Another, flying from the wrath of Doorm
Before an ever-fancied arrow, made
The long way smoke beneath him in his fear ;
At which her palfrey whinnying lifted heel.
And scour’d into the coppices and was lost.
While the great charger stood, grieved like a man.
But at the point of noon the huge Earl Doorm,
Broad-faced with under-fringe of russet beard.
Bound on a foray, rolling eyes of prey.
Came riding with a hundred lances up ;
But ere he came, like one that hails a ship,
Cried out with a big voice, “What, is he dead?”
“No, no, not dead ! ” she answer’d in all haste.
“ Would some of your kind people take him up,
And bear him hence out of this cruel sun :
Most sure am I, quite sure, he is not dead.”
Then said Earl Doorm: “Well, if he be not dead.
Why wail you for him thus? you seem a child.
And be he dead, I count you for a fool ;
Your wailing will not quicken him : dead or not.
You mar a comely face with idiot tears.
48
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Yet, since the face is comely — some of you,
Here, take him up, and bear him to our hall :
And if he live, we will have him of our band ;
And if he die, why earth has earth enough
To hide him. See ye take the charger too,
A noble one.”
E spake, and past away.
But left two brawny spearmen, who advanced,
Each growling like a dog, when his good bone
Seems to be pluck’d at by the village boys
Who love to vex him eating, and he fears
To lose his bone, and lays his foot upon it.
Gnawing and growling : so the ruffians growl’d.
Fearing to lose, and all for a dead man.
Their chance of booty from the morning’s raid ;
Yet raised and laid him on a litter-bier.
Such as they brought upon their forays out
For those that might be wounded ; laid him on it
All in the hollow of his shield, and took
And bore him to the naked hall of Doorm,
(His gentle charger following him unled)
And cast him and the bier in which he lay
Down on an oaken settle in the hall.
And then departed, hot in haste to join
Their luckier mates, but growling as before.
And cursing their lost time, and the dead man,
And their own Earl, and their own souls, and her.
They might as well have blest her : she was deaf
To blessing or to cursing save from one.
49
IDYLLS OF THE KING
So for long hours sat Enid by her lord,
There in the naked hall, propping his head.
And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him.
And at the last he waken’d from his swoon.
And found his own dear bride propping his head.
And chafing his faint hands, and calling to him ;
And felt the warm tears falling on his face ;
And said to his own heart, “She weeps for me;”
And yet lay still, and feign’d himself as dead.
That he might prove her to the uttermost.
And say to his own heart “She weeps for me.”
But in the falling afternoon return’d
The huge Earl Doorm with plunder to the hall.
His lusty spearmen followed him with noise :
Each hurling down a heap of things that rang
Against the pavement, cast his lance aside.
And doflF’d his helm : and then there flutter’d in.
Half-bold, half-frighted, with dilated eyes,
A tribe of women, dress’d in many hues,
And mingled with the spearmen : and Earl Doorm
Struck with a knife’s haft hard against the board.
And call’d for flesh and wine to feed his spears.
And men brought in whole hogs and quarter beeves.
And all the hall was dim with steam of flesh :
And none spake word, but all sat down at once.
And ate with tumult in the naked hall.
Feeding like horses when you hear them feed ;
Till Enid shrank far back into herself,
To shun the wild ways of the lawless tribe.
But when Earl Doorm had eaten all he would,
50
IDYLLS OF THE KING
He roll’d his eyes about the hall, and found
A damsel drooping in a corner of it.
Then he remember’d her, and how she wept ;
And out of her there came a power upon him ;
An rising on the sudden he said, “ Eat!
I never yet beheld a thing so pale.
God’s curse, it makes me mad to see you weep.
Eat ! Look yourself. Good luck had your good man.
For were I dead who is it would weep for me?
Sweet lady, never since I first drew breath
Have I beheld a lily like yourself.
And so there lived some colour in your cheek,
There is not one among my gentlewomen
Were fit to wear your slipper for a glove.
But listen to me, and by me be ruled.
And I will do the thing I have not done.
For you shall share my earldom with me, girl,
And we will live like two birds in one nest.
And I will fetch you forage from all fields,
For I compel all creatures to my will.”
E spoke : the brawny spearman let his cheek
Bulge with the unswallow’d piece, and turning
stared ;
While some, whose souls the old serpent long
had drawn
Down, as the worm draws in the wither’d leaf
And makes it earth, hiss’d each at other’s ear
What shall not be recorded — women they.
Women, or what had been those gracious things,
51
IDYLLS OF THE KING
But now desired the humbling of their best,
Y ea, would have help’d him to it : and all at once
They hated her, who took no thought of them.
But answer’d in low voice, her meek head yet
Drooping, “ I pray you of your courtesy.
He being as he is, to let me be.”
She spake so low he hardly heard her speak,
But like a mighty patron, satisfied
With what himself had done so graciously.
Assumed that she had thank’d him, adding, “Yea,
Eat and be glad, for I account you mine.”
She answer’d meekly, “How should I be glad
Henceforth in all the world at anything.
Until my lord arise and look upon me?”
Here the huge Earl cried out upon her talk.
As all but empty heart and weariness
And sickly nothing ; suddenly seized on her.
And bare her by main violence to the board.
And thrust the dish before her, crying, “ Eat.”
“No, no,” said Enid, vext, “I will not eat.
Till yonder man upon the bier arise,
And eat with me.” “Drink, then,” he answer’d. “Here!”
(And fill’d a horn with wine and held it to her,)
“Lo! I, myself, when flush’d with fight, or hot,
God’s curse, with anger — often I myself.
Before I well have drunken, scarce can eat :
Drink therefore and the wine will change your will.”
52
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“Not so,” she cried, “by Heaven, I will not drink.
Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it.
And drink with me ; and if he rise no more,
I will not look at wine until I die.”
At this he turn’d all red and paced his hall.
Now gnaw’d his under, now his upper lip.
And coming up close to her, said at last :
“Girl, for I see you scorn my courtesies.
Take warning : yonder man is surely dead ;
And I compel all creatures to my will.
Not eat nor drink ? And wherefore wail for one.
Who put your beauty to this flout and scorn
By dressing it in rags ? Amazed am I,
Beholding how you butt against my wish.
That I forbear you thus : cross me no more.
At least put off to please me this poor gown.
This silken rag, this beggar-woman’s weed :
I love that beauty should go beautifully :
For see you not my gentlewomen here.
How gay, how suited to the house of one.
Who loves that beauty should go beautifully !
Rise therefore ; robe yourself in this : obey.”
He spoke, and one among his gentlewomen
Display’d a splendid silk of foreign loom,
Where like a shoaling sea the lovely blue
Play’d into green, and thicker down the front
With jewels than the sward with drops of dew.
When all night long a cloud clings to the hill,
And with the dawn ascending lets the day
53
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Strike where it clung : so thickly shone the gems.
But Enid answer’d, harder to be moved
Than hardest tyrants in their day of power,
With life-long injuries burning unavenged.
And now their hour has come ; and Enid said :
“ In this poor gown my dear lord found me first.
And loved me serving in my father’s hall :
In this poor gown I rode with him to court.
And there the Queen array’d me like the sun :
In this poor gown he bade me clothe myself.
When now we rode upon this fatal quest
Of honour, where no honour can be gain’d :
And this poor gown I will not cast aside
Until himself arise a living man.
And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough :
Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be :
I never loved, can never love but him :
Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness.
He being as he is, to let me be.”
HEN strode the brute Earl up and down his
hall.
And took his russet beard between his teeth ;
Last, coming up quite close, and in his mood
Crying, “I count it of no more avail.
Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with
you ;
Take my salute,” unknightly with flat hand.
However lightly, smote her on the cheek.
54
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Then Enid, in her utter helplessness,
And since she thought, “ He had not dared to do it.
Except he surely knew my lord was dead,”
Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry.
As of a wild thing taken in the trap.
Which sees the trapper coming thro’ the wood.
This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword,
(It lay beside him in the hollow shield).
Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of it
Shore thro’ the swarthy neck, and like a ball
The russet-bearded head roll’d on the floor.
So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead.
And all the men and women in the hall
Rose when they saw the dead man rise, and fled
Yelling as from a spectre, and the two
Were left alone together, and he said :
“ Enid, I have used you worse than that dead man
Done you more wrong : we both have undergone
That trouble which has left me thrice your own :
Henceforward I will rather die than doubt.
And here I lay this penance on myself.
Not, tho’ mine own ears heard you yestermorn —
You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say,
I heard you say, that you were no true wife :
I swear I will not ask your meaning in it :
I do believe yourself against yourself.
And will henceforward rather die than doubt.”
And Enid could not say one tender word,
55
I
IDYLLS OF THE KING
She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart :
She only prayed him, “ Fly, they will return
And slay you ; fly, your charger is without.
My palfrey lost.” “Then, Enid, shall you ride
Behind me.” “Yea, ’’said Enid, “let us go.”
And moving out they found the stately horse.
Who now no more a vassal to the thief.
But free to stretch his limbs in lawful fight.
Neigh’d with all gladness as they came, and stoop’d
With a low whinny toward the pair: and she
Kiss’d the white star upon his noble front.
Glad also ; then Geraint upon the horse
Mounted, and reach’d a hand, and on his foot
She set her own and climb’d ; he turn’d his face
And kiss’d her climbing, and she cast her arms
About him, and at once they rode away.
ND never yet. since high in Paradise
O’er the four rivers the first roses blew.
Game purer pleasure unto mortal kind
Than lived thro’ her, who in that perilous hour
Put hand to hand beneath her husband’s heart,
And felt him hers again : she did not weep.
But o’er her meek eyes came a happy mist
Like that which kept the heart of Eden green
Before the useful trouble of the rain :
Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyes
As not to see before them on the path.
Right in the gateway of the bandit hold,
A knight of Arthur’s court, who laid his lance
In rest, and made as if to fall upon him.
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood.
She, with her mind all full of what had chanced,
Shriek’d to the stranger, “ Slay not a dead man ! ”
“ The voice of Enid,” said the knight ; but she.
Beholding it was Edyrn son of Nudd,
Was moved so much the more, and shriek’d again,
‘*0 cousin, slay not him who gave you life.”
And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake :
My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love ;
I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm ;
And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him.
Who love you. Prince, with something of the love
Wherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us.
For once, when I was up so high in pride
That I was halfway down the slope to Hell,
By overthrowing me you threw me higher.
Now, made a knight of Arthur’s Table Round,
And since I knew this Earl, when I myself
Was half a bandit in my lawless hour,
I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm
(The King is close behind me) bidding him
Disband himself, and scatter all his powers.
Submit, and hear the judgement of the King.”
“He hears the judgement of the King of Kings,”
Cried the wan Prince ; ‘ ‘ and lo the powers of Doorm
Are scatter’d,” and he pointed to the field.
Where, huddled here and there on mound and knoll.
Were men and women staring and aghast.
While some yet fled ; and then he plainlier told
How the huge Earl lay slain within his hall.
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
But when the knight besought him, “Follow me,
Prince, to the camp, and in the King’s own ear
Speak what has chanced ; you surely have endured
Strange chances here alone that other flush’d,
And hung his head, and halted in reply.
Fearing the mild face of the blameless King,
And after madness acted question ask’d :
Till Edyrn crying, “If you will not go
To Arthur, then will Arthur come to you.”
“ Enough,” he said, “I follow,” and they went.
But Enid in their going had two fears.
One from the bandit scatter’d in the field,
And one from Edyrn. Every now and then
When Edyrn rein’d his charger at her side,
She shrank a little. In a hollow land,
From which old fires have broken, men may fear
Fresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said :
“Fair and dear cousin, you that most had cause
To fear me, fear no longer, I am changed.
Yourself were first the blameless cause to make
My nature’s prideful sparkle in the blood
Break into furious flame ; being repulsed
By Yniol and yourself, I schemed and wrought
Until I overturn’d him ; then set up
(With one main purpose ever at my heart)
My haughty jousts, and took a paramour ;
Did her mock-honour as the fairest fair,
And, toppling over all antagonism.
So wax’d in pride, that I believed myself
Unconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad :
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
And, but for my main purpose in these jousts,
I should have slain your father, seized yourself.
I lived in hope that sometime you would come
To these my lists with him whom best you loved ;
And there, poor cousin, with your meek blue eyes.
The truest eyes that ever answer’d Heaven,
Behold me overturn and trample on him.
Then, had you cried, or knelt, or pray’d to me,
I should not less have kill’d him. And you came, —
But once you came, — and with your own true eyes
Beheld the man you loved (I speak as one
Speaks of a service done him) overthrow
My proud self, and my purpose three years old.
And set his foot upon me, and give me life.
There was I broken down ; there was I saved :
Tho’ thence I rode all-shamed, hating the life
He gave me, meaning to be rid of it.
And all the penance the Queen laid upon me
Was but to rest awhile within her court ;
Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged.
And waiting to be treated like a wolf.
Because I knew my deeds were known, I found.
Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn.
Such fine reserve and noble reticence.
Manners so kind, yet stately, such a grace
Of tenderest courtesy, that I began
To glance behind me at my former life.
And find that it had been the wolPs indeed :
And oft I talk’d with Dubric, the high saint.
Who, with mild heat of holy oratory.
Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness,
59
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a man.
And you were often there about the Queen,
But saw me not, or mark’d not if you saw ;
Nor did I care or dare to speak with you.
But kept myself aloof till I was changed ;
And fear not, cousin; I am changed indeed.”
E spoke, and Enid easily believed.
Like simple noble natures, credulous
Of what they long for, good in friend or
foe.
There most in those who most have done
them ill.
And when they reach’d the camp the King himself
Advanced to greet them, and beholding her
Tho’ pale, yet happy, ask’d her not a word.
But went apart with Edyrn, whom he held
In converse for a little, and return’d,
And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse.
And kiss’d her with all pureness, brother-like,
And show’d an empty tent allotted her.
And glancing for a minute, till he saw her
Pass into it, turn’d to the Prince, and said :
“Prince, when of late you pray’d me for my leave
To move to your own land, and there defend
Your marches, I was prick’d with some reproof.
As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be,
By having look’d too much thro’ alien eyes.
And wrought too long with delegated hands.
Not used mine own : but now behold me come
60
IDYLLS OF THE KING
To cleanse this common sewer of all my realm,
With Edyrn and with others : have you look’d
At Edyrn ? have you seen how nobly changed ?
This work of his is great and wonderful.
His very face with change of heart is changed.
The world will not believe a man repents :
And this wise world of ours is mainly right.
Full seldom does a man repent, or use
Both grace and will to pick the vicious quitch
Of blood and custom wholly out of him.
And make all clean, and plant himself afresh.
Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heart
As I will weed this land before I go.
I, therefore, made him of our Table Round,
Not rashly, but have proved him everyway
One of our noblest, our most valorous.
Sanest and most obedient : and indeed
This work of Edyrn wrought upon himself
After a life of violence, seems to me
A thousand-fold more great and wonderful
Than if some knight of mine, risking his life.
My subject with my subjects under him.
Should make an onslaught single on a realm
Of robbers, tho’ he slew them one by one,
And were himself nigh wounded to the death.”
So spake the King ; low bow’d the Prince, and felt
His work was neither great nor wonderful.
And past to Enid’s tent ; and thither came
The King’s own leech to look into his hurt ;
And Enid tended on him there ; and there
61
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Her constant motion round him, and the breath
Of her sweet tendance hovering over him,
Fill’d all the genial courses of his blood
With deeper and with ever deeper love,
As the south-west that blowing Bala lake
Fills all the sacred Dee. So past the days.
But while Geraint lay healing of his hurt.
The blameless King went forth and cast his eyes
On whom his father Uther left in charge
Long since, to guard the justice of the King :
He look’d and found them wanting ; and as now
Men weed the white horse on the Berkshire hills
To keep him bright and clean as heretofore.
He rooted out the slothful officer
Or guilty, which for bribe had wink’d at wrong.
And in their chairs set up a stronger race
With hearts and hands, and sent a thousand men
To till the wastes, and moving everywhere
Clear’d the dark places and let in the law.
And broke the bandit holds and cleansed the land.
HEN, when Geraint was whole again, they past
With Arthur to Gaerleon upon Usk.
There the great Queen once more embraced
her friend.
And clothed her in apparel like the day.
And tho’ Geraint could never take again
That comfort from their converse which he took
Before the Queen’s fair name was breathed upon.
He rested well content that all was well.
62
,/lncl many past, but none regarded her.
Page 47
j
0
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Thence after tarrying for a space they rode,
And fifty knights rode with them to the shores
Of Severn, and they past to their own land.
And there he kept the justice of the King
So vigorously yet mildly, that all hearts
Applauded, and the spiteful whisper died :
And being ever foremost in the chase,
And victor at the tilt and tournament.
They call’d him the great Prince and man of men.
But Enid, whom her ladies loved to call
Enid the Fair, a grateful people named
Enid the Good ; and in their halls arose
The cry of children, Enids and Geraints
Of times to be; nor did he doubt her more
But rested in her fealty, till he crown’d
A happy life with a fair death, and fell
Against the heathen of the Northern Sea
In battle, fighting for the blameless King.
63
K
VIVIEN
w
VIVIEN
A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It look’d a tower of ruin’d masonwork,
At Merlin’s feet the wily Vivien lay.
HE wily Vivien stole from Arthur’s court :
She hated all the knights, and heard in thought
Their lavish comment when her name was
named.
For once, when Arthur walking all alone,
Vext at a rumour rife about the Queen,
Had met her, Vivien, being greeted fair.
Would fain have wrought upon his cloudy mood
With reverent eyes mock-loyal, shaken voice,
And flutter’d adoration, and at last
With dark sweet hints of some who prized him more
Than who should prize him most ; at which the King
Had gazed upon her blankly and gone by :
But one had watch’d, and had not held his peace :
It made the laughter of an afternoon
67
IDYLLS OF THE KING
That Vivien should attempt the blameless King.
And after that, she set herself to gain
Him, the most famous man of all those times,
Merlin, who knew the range of all their arts,
Had built the King his havens, ships, and halls.
Was also Bard, and knew the starry heavens;
The people called him Wizard ; whom at first
She play’d about with slight and sprightly talk.
And vivid smiles, and faintly-venom’d points
Of slander, glancing here and grazing there ;
And yielding to his kindlier moods, the Seer
Would watch her at her petulance, and play,
Ev’n when they seem’d unlovable, and laugh
As those that watch a kitten ; thus he grew
Tolerant of what he half disdain’d, and she.
Perceiving that she was but half disdain’d.
Began to break her sports with graver fits.
Turn red or pale, would often when they met
Sigh fully, or all-silent gaze upon him
With such a fixt devotion, that the old man,
Tho’ doubtful, felt the flattery, and at times
Would flatter his own wish in age for love.
And half believe her true : for thus at times
He waver’d ; but that other clung to him,
Fixt in her will, and so the seasons went.
Then fell upon him a great melancholy ;
And leaving Arthur’s court he gain’d the beach :
There found a little boat, and stept into it ;
And Vivien follow’d, but he mark’d her not.
She took the helm and he the sail ; the boat
Drave with a sudden wind across the deeps,
68
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And touching Breton sands, they disembark’d.
And then she followed Merlin all the way,
Ev’n to the wild woods of Broceliande.
For Merlin once had told her of a charm.
The which if any wrought on any one
With woven paces and with waving arms.
The man so wrought on ever seem’d to lie
Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower.
From which was no escape for evermore ;
And none could find that man for evermore.
Nor could he see but him who wrought the charm
Coming and going, and he lay as dead
And lost to life and use and name and fame.
And Vivien ever sought to work the charm
Upon the great Enchanter of the Time,
As fancying that her glory would be great
According to his greatness whom she quench’d.
HERE lay she all her length and kiss’d his feet.
As if in deepest reverence and in love.
A twist of gold was round her hair; a robe
Of samite without price, that more exprest
Than hid her, clung about her lissome limbs.
In colour like the satin-shining palm
On sallows in the windy gleams of March :
And while she kiss’d them, crying, “Trample me,
Dear feet, that I have follow’d thro’ the world,
And I will pay you worship; tread me down
And I will kiss you for it ; ” he was mute :
So dark a forethought roll’d about his brain.
As on a dull day in an Ocean cave
69
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall
In silence : wherefore, when she lifted up
A face of sad appeal, and spake and said,
“O Merlin, do you love me?” and again,
‘ ‘ O Merlin, do you love me ? ” and once more,
“Great Master, do you love me?” he was mute.
And lissome Vivien, holding by his heel.
Writhed toward him, slided up his knee and sat,
Behind his ankle twined her hollow feet
Together, curved an arm about his neck.
Clung like a snake ; and letting her left hand
Droop from his mighty shoulder, as a leaf.
Made with her right a comb of pearl to part
The lists of such a beard as youth gone out
Had left in ashes : then he spoke and said.
Not looking at her, ** Who are wise in love
Love most, say least,” and Vivien answer’d quick,
“I saw the little elf-god eyeless once
In Arthur’s arras hall at Gamelot :
But neither eyes nor tongue — O stupid child !
Yet you are wise who say it; let me think
Silence is wisdom : I am silent then
And ask no kiss ; ” then adding all at once,
“And lo, I clothe myself with wisdom,” drew
The vast and shaggy mantle of his beard
Across her neck and bosom to her knee.
And call’d herself a gilded summer fly
Caught in a great old tyrant spider’s web.
Who meant to eat her up in that wild wood
Without one word. So Vivien call’d herself.
But rather seem’d a lovely baleful star
70
y]t which the King
Had gazed upon her blankh gone by.
Page 67
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Veil’d in grey vapour ; till he sadly smiled :
“To what request for what strange boon,” he said,
“Are these your pretty tricks and fooleries,
O Vivien, the preamble? yet my thanks.
For these have broken up my melancholy. ”
ND Vivien answer’d smiling saucily,
‘ ‘ What, O my Master, have you found your
voice ?
I bid the stranger welcome. Thanks at last !
But yesterday you never open’d lip.
Except indeed to drink : no cup had we :
In mine own lady palms I cull’d the spring
That gather’d trickling dropwise from the cleft.
And made a pretty cup of both my hands
And offer’d you it kneeling : then you drank
And knew no more, nor gave me one poor word ;
O, no more thanks than might a goat have given
With no more sign of reverence than a beard.
And when we halted at that other well.
And I was faint to swooning, and you lay
Foot-gilt with all the blossom-dust of those
Deep meadows we had traversed, did you know
That Vivien bathed your feet before her own?
And yet no thanks : and all thro’ this wild wood
And all this morning when I fondled you :
Boon, yes, there was a boon, one not so strange- —
How had I wrong’d you? surely you are wise.
But such a silence is more wise than kind.”
And Merlin lock’d his hand in hers and said :
71
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“ O, did you never lie upon the shore,
And watch the curl’d white of the coming wave
Glass’d in the slippery sand before it breaks ?
Ev’n such a wave, but not so pleasurable.
Dark in the glass of some presageful mood.
Had I for three days seen, ready to fall.
And then I rose and fled from Arthur’s court
To break the mood. You follow’d me unask’d ;
And when I look’d, and saw you following still.
My mind involved yourself the nearest thing
In that mind-mist : for shall I tell you truth ?
You seem’d that wave about to break upon me
And sweep me from my hold upon the world.
My use and name and fame. Your pardon, child.
Your pretty sports have brighten’d all again.
And ask your boon, for boon I owe you thrice.
Once for wrong done you by confusion, next
For thanks it seems till now neglected, last
For these your dainty gambols : wherefore ask ;
And take this boon so strange and not so strange.
And Vivien answer’d, smiling mournfully ;
“ O not so strange as my long asking it.
Nor yet so strange as you yourself are strange.
Nor half so strange as that dark mood of yours.
I ever fear’d you were not wholly mine ;
And see, yourself have own’d you did me wrong.
The people call you prophet : let it be ;
But not of those that can expound themselves.
Take Vivien for expounder ; she will call
That three-days-long presageful gloom of yours
72
IDYLLS OF THE KING
No presage, but the same mistrustful mood
That makes you seem less noble than yourself,
Whenever I have ask’d this very boon.
Now ask’d again : for see you not, dear love.
That such a mood as that, which lately gloom’d
Your fancy when you saw me following you.
Must make me fear still more you are not mine.
Must make me yearn still more to prove you mine.
And make me wish still more to learn this charm
Of woven paces and of waving hands.
As proof of trust. O Merlin, teach it me.
The charm so taught will charm us both to rest.
For, grant me some slight power upon your fate,
I, feeling that you felt me worthy trust.
Should rest and let you rest, knowing you mine.
And therefore be as great as you are named.
Not muffled round with selfish reticence.
How hard you look and how denyingly !
O, if you think this wickedness in me.
That I should prove it on you unawares.
To make you lose your use and name and fame.
That makes me most indignant ; then our bond
Had best be loosed for ever : but think or not.
By Heaven that hears I tell you the clean truth
As clean as blood of babes, as white as milk :
O Merlin, may this earth, if ever I,
If these unwitty wandering wits of mine,
Ev’n in the jumbled rubbish of a dream.
Have tript on such conjectural treachery —
May this hard earth cleave to the Nadir hell
Down, down, and close again, and nip me flat,
73
IDYLLS OF THE KING
If I be such a traitress. Yield my boon,
Till which I scarce can yield you all I am ;
And grant my re-reiterated wish,
The great proof of your love : because I think.
However wise, you hardly know me yet.”
D Merlin loosed his hand from hers and said,
“I never was less wise, however wise,
Too curious Vivien, tho’ you talk of trust,
Than when I told you first of such a charm.
Yea, if you talk of trust I tell you this,
Too much I trusted, when I told you that.
And stirr’d this vice in you which ruin’d man
Thro’ woman the first hour ; for howsoe’er
In children a great curiousness be well.
Who have to learn themselves and all the world.
In you, that are no child, for still I find
Your face is practised, when I spell the lines,
I call it, well, — I will not call it vice:
But since you name yourself the summer fly,
I well could wish a cobweb for the gnat.
That settles, beaten back, and beaten back
Settles, till one could yield for weariness :
But since I will not yield to give you power
Upon my life and use and name and fame.
Why will you never ask some other boon ?
Yea, by God’s rood, I trusted you too much.”
And Vivien, like the tenderest-hearted maid
That ever bided tryst at village stile.
Made answer, either eyelid wet with tears :
74
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“Nay, master, be not wrathful with your maid,
Caress her : let her feel herself forgiven
Who feels no heart to ask another boon.
I think you hardly know the tender rhyme
Of ‘trust me not at all or all in all.’
I heard the great Sir Lancelot sing it once,
And it shall answer for me. Listen to it.
‘ In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours.
Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers :
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.
‘ It is the little rift within the lute.
That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.
‘The little rift within the lover’s lute,
Or little pitted speck in garner’d fruit.
That rotting inward slowly moulders all.
‘ It is not worth the keeping : let it go :
But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.
And trust me not at all or all in all.’
O master, do you love my tender rhyme?”
And Merlin look’d and half believed her true,
So tender was her voice, so fair her face.
So sweetly gleam’d her eyes behind her tears
Like sunlight on the plain behind a shower :
And yet he answer’d half indignantly.
75
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“Far other was the song that once I heard
By this huge oak, sung nearly where we sit :
For here we met, some ten or twelve of us.
To chase a creature that was current then
In these wild woods, the hart with golden horns.
It was the time when first the question rose
About the founding of a Table Round,
That was to be, for love of God and men
And noble deeds, the flower of all the world.
And each incited each to noble deeds.
And while we waited, one, the youngest of us.
We could not keep him silent, out he flash’d.
And into such a song, such fire for fame.
Such trumpet-blowings in it, coming down
To such a stern and iron-clashing close.
That when he stopt we long’d to hurl together.
And should have done it; but the beauteous beast
Scared by the noise upstarted at our feet,
And like a silver shadow slipt away
Thro’ the dim land ; and all day long we rode
Thro’ the dim land against a rushing wind.
That glorious roundel echoing in our ears.
And chased the flashes of his golden horns
Until they vanished by the fairy well
That laughs at iron — as our warriors did —
Where children cast their pins and nails, and cry,
‘Laugh, little well,’ but touch it with a sword.
It buzzes wildly round the point ; and there
We lost him : such a noble song was that.
But, Vivien, when you sang me that sweet rhyme,
I felt as tho’ you knew this cursed charm,
76
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Were proving it on me, and that I lay
And felt them slowly ebbing, name and fame.”
And Vivien answer’d smiling mournfully :
“O, mine have ebb’d away for evermore.
And all thro’ following you to this wild wood.
Because I saw you sad, to comfort you.
Lo now, what hearts have men ! they never mount
As high as woman in her selfless mood.
And touching fame, howe’er you scorn my song.
Take one verse more — the lady speaks it — this :
‘ My name, once mine, now thine, is closelier mine,
For fame, could fame be mine, that fame were thine.
And shame, could shame be thine, that shame were mine.
So trust me not at all or all in all.’
“Says she not well? and there is more — this rhyme
Is like the fair pearl-necklace of the Queen,
That burst in dancing, and the pearls were spilt ;
Some lost, some stolen, some as relics kept.
But nevermore the same two sister pearls
Ran down the silken thread to kiss each other
On her white neck — so is it with this rhyme :
It lives dispersedly in many hands.
And every minstrel sings it diflferently ;
Yet is there one true line, the pearl of pearls ;
‘ Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to Love. ’
True : Love, tho’ Love were of the grossest, carves
A portion from the solid present, eats
And uses, careless of the rest ; but Fame,
77
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The Fame that follows death is nothing to us ;
And what is Fame in life but half-disfame,
And counterchanged with darkness ? you yourself
Know well that Envy calls you Devil’s son,
And since you seem the Master of all Art,
They fain would make you Master of all Vice.”
ND Merlin lock’d his hand in hers and said,
“ I once was looking for a magic weed.
And found a fair young squire who sat alone,
Had carved himself a knightly shield of wood.
And then was painting on it fancied arms.
Azure, an Eagle rising or, the Sun
In dexter chief; the scroll ‘I follow fame.’
And speaking not, but leaning over him,
I took his brush and blotted out the bird,
And made a Gardener putting in a graff,
With this for motto, ‘Rather use than fame.’
Y ou should have seen him blush ; but afterwards
He made a stalwart knight. O Vivien,
For you, methinks you think you love me well ;
For me, I love you somewhat ; rest : and Love
Should have some rest and pleasure in himself,
Not ever be too curious for a boon.
Too prurient for a proof against the grain
Of him you say you love ; but Fame with men.
Being but ampler means to serve mankind.
Should have small rest or pleasure in herself.
But work as vassal to the larger love.
That dwarfs the petty love of one to one.
Use gave me Fame at first, and Fame again
78
O master, do you love my tender rhyme ?
Page 75
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
Increasing gave me use. Lo, there my boon !
What other ? for men sought to prove me vile,
Because I wish’d to give them greater minds :
And then did Envy call me Devil’s son :
The sick weak beast seeking to help herselt
By striking at her better, miss’d, and brought
Her own claw back, and wounded her own heart.
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown.
But when my name was lifted up, the storm
Broke on the mountain and I cared not for it.
Right well know I that Fame is half-disfame.
Yet needs must work my work. That other fame,
To one at least, who hath not children, vague.
The cackle of the unborn about the grave,
I cared not for it : a single misty star.
Which is the second in a line of stars
That seem a sword beneath a belt of three,
I never gazed upon it but I dreamt
Of some vast charm concluded in that star
To make fame nothing. Wherefore, if I fear.
Giving you power upon me thro’ this charm.
That you might play me falsely, having power.
However well you think you love me now
(As sons of kings loving in pupilage
Have turn’d to tyrants when they came to power),
I rather dread the loss of use than fame ;
If you — and not so much from wickedness.
As some wild turn of anger, or a mood
Of overstrain’d affection, it may be.
To keep me all to your own self, or else
A sudden spurt of woman’s jealousy, —
79
M
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Should try this charm on whom you say you love.”
And Vivien answer’d smiling as in wrath,
“ Have I not sworn ? I am not trusted. Good I
Well, hide it, hide it ; I shall find it out ;
And being found take heed of Vivien.
A woman and not trusted, doubtless I
Might feel some sudden turn of anger born
Of your misfaith ; and your fine epithet
Is accurate too, for this full love of mine
Without the full heart back may merit well
Your term of overstrain’d. So used as I,
My daily wonder is, I love at all.
And as to woman’s jealousy, O whv not ?
0 to what end, except a jealous one.
And one to make me jealous if I love.
Was this fair charm invented by yourself?
1 well believe that all about this world
You cage a buxom captive here and there.
Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower
From which is no escape for evermore ”
HEN the great Master merrily answered her :
“Full many a love in loving youth was mine,
I needed then no charm to keep them mine
But youth and love ; and that full heart of
yours
Whereof you prattle, may now assure you mine;
So live uncharm’d. For those who wrought it first.
The wrist is parted from the hand that waved,
The feet unmortised from their ankle-bones
80
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Who paced it, ages back : but will you hear
The legend as in guerdon for your rhyme?
“There lived a king in the most Eastern East,
Less old than I, yet older, for my blood
Hath earnest in it of far springs to be.
A tawny pirate anchor’d in his port.
Whose bark had plunder’d twenty nameless isles ;
And passing one, at the high peep of dawn.
He saw two cities in a thousand boats
All fighting for a woman on the sea.
And pushing his black craft among them all.
He lightly scatter’d theirs and brought her off.
With loss of half his people arrow-slain ;
A maid so smooth, so white, so wonderful.
They said a light came from her when she moved :
And since the pirate would not yield her up.
The King impaled him for his piracy ;
Then made her Queen : but those isle-nurtur’d eyes
Waged such unwilling tho’ successful war
On all the youth, they sicken’d ; councils thinn’d.
And armies waned, for magnet-like she drew
The rustiest iron of old fighters’ hearts ;
And beasts themselves would worship ; camels knelt
Unbidden, and the brutes of mountain back
That carry kings in castles, bow’d black knees
Of homage, ringing with their serpent hands,
To make her smile, her golden ankle-bells.
What wonder, being jealous, that he sent
His horns of proclamation out thro’ all
The hundred under-kingdoms that he sway’d
81
IDYLLS OF THE KING
To find a wizard who might teach the King
Some charm, which being wrought upon the Queen
Might keep her all his own : to such a one
He promised more than ever king has given,
A league of mountain full of golden mines,
A province with a hundred miles of coast,
A palace and a princess, all for him :
But on all those who tried and fail’d, the King
Pronounced a dismal sentence, meaning by it
To keep the list low and pretenders back,
Or like a king, not to be trifled with —
Their heads should moulder on the city gates.
And many tried and fail’d, because the charm
Of nature in her overbore their own :
And many a wizard brow bleach’d on the walls :
And many weeks a troop of carrion crows
Hung like a cloud above the gateway towers.”
And Vivien breaking in upon him, said :
” I sit and gather honey ; yet, methinks.
Your tongue has tript a little : ask yourself.
The lady never made unwilling war
With those fine eyes : she had her pleasure in it.
And made her good man jealous with good cause.
And lived there neither dame nor damsel then
Wroth at a lover’s loss ? were all as tame,
I mean, as noble, as their Queen was fair?
Not one to flirt a venom at her eyes.
Or pinch a murderous dust into her drink.
Or make her paler with a poison’d rose ?
Well, those were not our days : but did they find
82
IDYLLS OF THE KING
A wizard? Tell me, was he like to thee?”
She ceased, and made her lithe arm round his neck
Tighten, and then drew back, and let her eyes
Speak for her, glowing on him, like a bride’s
On her new lord, her own, the first of men.
E answer’d laughing, ‘*Nay, not like to me.
At last they found — his foragers for charms —
A little glassy-headed hairless man.
Who lived alone in a great wild on grass ;
Read but one book, and ever reading grew
So grated down and filed away with thought.
So lean his eyes were monstrous ; while the skin
Clung but to crate and basket, ribs and spine.
And since he kept his mind on one sole aim.
Nor ever touch’d fierce wine, nor tasted flesh.
Nor own’d a sensual wish, to him the wall
That sunders ghosts and shadow-casting men
Became a crystal, and he saw them thro’ it.
And heard their voices talk behind the wall.
And learnt their elemental secrets, powers
And forces ; often o’er the sun’s bright eye
Drew the vast eyelid of an inky cloud.
And lash’d it at the base with slanting storm ;
Or in the noon of mist and driving rain.
When the lake whiten’d and the pinewood roar’d.
And the cairn’d mountain was a shadow, sunn’d
The world to peace again : here was the man.
And so by force they dragg’d him to the King.
And then he taught the King to charm the Queen
83
IDYLLS OF THE KING
In such-wise, that no man could see her more,
Nor saw she save the King, who wrought the charm,
Coming and going, and she lay as dead.
And lost all use of life : but when the King
Made proffer of the league of golden mines.
The province with a hundred miles of coast,
The palace and the princess, that old man
Went back to his old wild, and lived on grass.
And vanish’d, and his book came down to me.”
And Vivien answer’d smiling saucily ;
“You have the book : the charm is written in it :
Good : take my counsel : let me know it at once :
For keep it like a puzzle chest in chest.
With each chest lock’d and padlock’d thirty-fold.
And whelm all this beneath as vast a mound
As after furious battle turfs the slain
On some wild down above the windy deep,
I yet should strike upon a sudden means
To dig, pick, open, find and read the charm :
Then, if I tried it, who should blame me then ? ”
And smiling as a Master smiles at one
That is not of his school, nor any school
But that where blind and naked Ignorance
Delivers brawling judgements, unashamed.
On all things all day long, he answer’d her.
** You read the book, my pretty Vivien I
O aye, it is but twenty pages long.
But every page having an ample marge,
84
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And every marge enclosing in the midst
A square of text that looks a little blot,
The text no larger than the limbs of fleas ;
And every square of text an awful charm,
Writ in a language that has long gone by.
So long, that mountains have arisen since
With cities on their flanks — you read the book !
And every margin scribbled, crost, and cramm’d
With comment, densest condensation, hard
To mind and eye ; but the long sleepless nights
Of my long life have made it easy to me.
And none can read the text, not even I ;
And none can read the comment but myself ;
And in the comment did I And the charm.
O, the results are simple ; a mere child
Might use it to the harm of any one.
And never could undo it : ask no more :
For tho’ you should not prove it upon me.
But keep that oath you swore, you might, perchance.
Assay it on some one of the Table Round,
And all because you dream they babble of you.”
And Vivien, frowning in true anger, said :
What dare the full-fed liars say of me ?
They ride abroad redressing human wrongs !
They sit with knife in meat and wine in horn.
They bound to holy vows of chastity !
Were I not woman, I could tell a tale.
But you are man, you well can understand
The shame that cannot be explain’d for shame.
Not one of all the drove should touch me: swine!”
85
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Then answer’d Merlin careless of her words,
“You breathe but accusation vast and vague,
Spleen-born, I think, and proofless. If you know.
Set up the charge you know, to stand or fall ! ”
And Vivien answer’d frowning wrathfully ;
“ O aye, what say ye to Sir Valence, him
Whose kinsman left him watcher o’er his wife
And two fair babes, and went to distant lands ;
Was one year gone, and on returning found
Not two but three : there lay the reckling, one
But one hour old ! What said the happy sire ?
A seven-months’ babe had been a truer gift.
Those twelve sweet moons confused his fatherhood.”
HEN answer’d Merlin, “Nay, I know the tale.
Sir Valence wedded with an outland dame :
Some cause had kept him sunder’d from his
wife :
One child they had : it lived with her : she
died :
His kinsman travelling on his own affair
Was charged by Valence to bring home the child.
He brought, not found it therefore : take the truth.”
“O aye,” said Vivien, “overtrue a tale.
What say ye then to sweet Sir Sagramore,
That ardent man? “to pluck the flower in season;”
So says the song, “I trow it is no treason.”
O Master, shall we call him overquick
To crop his own sweet rose before the hour?”
86
cTV^or sau) she save the King, who wrought the charm.
Page 84
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
And Merlin answer’d, “ Overquick are you
To catch a loathly plume fall’n from the wing
Of that foul bird of rapine whose whole prey
Is man’s good name : he never wrong’d his bride.
I know the tale. An angry gust of wind
Puff’d out his torch among the myriad-room’d
And many-corridor’d complexities
Of Arthur’s palace : then he found a door
And darkling felt the sculptured ornament
That wreathen round it made it seem his own ;
And wearied out made for the couch and slept,
A stainless man beside a stainless maid ;
And either slept, nor knew of other there ;
Till the high dawn piercing the royal rose
In Arthur’s casement glimmer’d chastely down.
Blushing upon them blushing, and at once
He rose without a word and parted from her :
But when the thing was blazed about the court,
The brute world howling forced them into bonds,
And as it chanced they are happy, being pure.”
“O aye,” said Vivien, “that were likely too.
What say ye then to fair Sir Percivale
And of the horrid foulness that he wrought.
The saintly youth, the spotless lamb of Christ,
Or some black wether of St. Satan’s fold.
What, in the precincts of the chapel-yard,
Among the knightly brasses of the graves.
And by the cold Hie Jacets of the dead!”
And Merlin answer’d careless of her charge,
87
N
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“A sober man is Percivale and pure ;
But once in life was fluster’d with new wine,
Then paced for coolness in the chapel-yard ;
Where one of Satan’s shepherdesses caught
And meant to stamp him with her master’s mark;
And that he sinn’d is not believable ;
For, look upon his face ! — but if he sinn’d.
The sin that practice burns into the blood.
And not the one dark hour which brings remorse.
Will brand us, after, of whose fold we be :
Or else were he, the holy King, whose hymns
Are chanted in the minster, worse than all.
But is your spleen froth’d out, or have ye more ? ”
And Vivien answer’d frowning yet in wrath :
‘ ‘ O aye ; what say ye to Sir Lancelot, friend ?
Traitor or true? that commerce with the Queen,
I ask you, is it clamour’d by the child.
Or whisper’d in the corner? do you know it?”
To which he answer’d sadly, “Yea, I know it.
Sir Lancelot went ambassador, at first.
To fetch her, and she took him for the King;
So fixt her fancy on him : let him be.
But have you no one word of loyal praise
For Arthur, blameless King and stainless man?”
She answer’d with a low and chuckling laugh :
“Him? is he man at all, who knows and winks?
Sees what his fair bride is and does, and winks ?
By which the good King means to blind himself,
88
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And blinds himself and all the Table Round
To all the foulness that they work. Myself
Could call him (were it not for womanhood)
The pretty, popular name such manhood earns,
Could call him the main cause of all their crime;
Yea, were he not crown’d King, coward, and fool.”
Then Merlin to his own heart, loathing, said :
“ O true and tender ! O my liege and King !
O selfless man and stainless gentleman.
Who wouldst against thine own eye-witness fain
Have all men true and leal, all women pure ;
How, in the mouths of base interpreters,
From over-fineness not intelligible
To things with every sense as false and foul
As the poach’d filth that floods the middle street,
Is thy white blamelessness accounted blame ! ”
But Vivien, deeming Merlin overborne
By instance, recommenced, and let her tongue
Rage like a fire among the noblest names,
Polluting, and imputing her whole self.
Defaming and defacing, till she left
Not even Lancelot brave, nor Galahad clean.
Her words had issue other than she will’d.
He dragg’d his eyebrow bushes down, and made
A snowy penthouse for his hollow eyes.
And mutter’d in himself, “Tell her the charm 1
So, if she had it, would she rail on me
To snare the next, and if she have it not,
89
IDYLLS OF THE KING
So will she rail. What did the wanton say ?
‘ Not mount as high we scarce can sink as low :
For men at most diflfer as Heaven and earth,
But women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell.
I know the Table Round, my friends of old ;
All brave, and many generous, and some chaste.
I think she cloaks the wounds of loss with lies ;
I do believe she tempted them and fail’d.
She is so bitter : for fine plots may fail,
Tho’ harlots paint their talk as well as face
With colours of the heart that are not theirs.
I will not let her know : nine tithes of times
Face-flatterers and backbiters are the same.
And they, sweet soul, that most impute a crime
Are pronest to it, and impute themselves.
Wanting the mental range ; or low desire
Not to feel lowest makes them level all ;
Yea, they would pare the mountain to the plain.
To leave an equal baseness ; and in this
Are harlots like the crowd, that if they find
Some stain or blemish in a name of note.
Not grieving that their greatest are so small.
Inflate themselves with some insane delight.
And judge all nature from her feet of clay.
Without the will to lift their eyes, and see
Her godlike head crown'd with spiritual fire.
And touching other worlds. I am weary of her.”
He spoke in words part heard, in whispers part.
Half-suffocated in the hoary fell
And many-winter’d fleece of throat and chin.
90
IDYLLS OF THE KING
But Vivien, gathering somewhat of his mood,
And hearing ‘ ‘ harlot ” mutter’d twice or thrice,
Leapt from her session on his lap, and stood
Stiff as a viper frozen ; loathsome sight.
How from the rosy lips of life and love,
Flash’d the hare-grinning skeleton of death I
White was her cheek ; sharp breaths of anger puff’d
Her fairy nostril out ; her hand half-clench’d
Went faltering sideways downward to her belt.
And feeling ; had she found a dagger there
(For in a wink the false love turns to hate)
She would have stabb’d him ; but she found it not :
His eye was calm, and suddenly she took
To bitter weeping like a beaten child,
A long, long weeping, not consolable.
Then her false voice made way broken with sobs.
“ O crueller than was ever told in tale.
Or sung in song ! O vainly lavish’d love !
O cruel, there was nothing wild or strange.
Or seeming shameful, for what shame in love.
So love be true, and not as yours is — nothing
Poor Vivien had not done to win his trust
Who call’d her what he call’d her — all her crime.
All — all — the wish to prove him wholly hers.”
She mused a little, and then clapt her hands
Together with a wailing shriek, and said :
“ Stabb’d through the heart’s affections to the heart !
Seeth’d like the kid in its own mother’s milk !
Kill’d with a word worse than a life of blows !
91
IDYLLS OF THE KING
I thought that he was gentle, being great :
0 God, that I had loved a smaller man !
1 should have found in him a greater heart.
O, I, that flattering my true passion, saw
The knights, the court, the King, dark in your light,
Who loved to make men darker than they are,
Because of that high pleasure which I had
To seat you sole upon my pedestal
Of worship — I am answer’d, and henceforth
The course of life that seem’d so flowery to me
With you for guide and master, only you.
Becomes the sea-cliff' pathway broken short,
And ending in a ruin — nothing left.
But into some low cave to crawl, and there,
If the wolf spare me, weep my life away,
Kill’d with inutterable unkindliness.”
E paused, she turn’d away, she hung her head.
The snake of gold slid from her hair, the
braid
Slipt and uncoil’d itself, she wept afresh.
And the dark wood grew darker toward the
storm
In silence, while his anger slowly died
Within him, till he let his wisdom go
For ease of heart, and half believed her true :
Gall’d her to shelter in the hollow oak,
“Gome from the storm,” and having no reply.
Gazed at the heaving shoulder, and the face
Hand-hidden, as for utmost grief or shame ;
Then thrice-essay’d, by tenderest-touching terms
92
IDYLLS OF THE KING
To sleek her ruffled peace of mind, in vain.
At last she let herself be conquer’d by him,
And as the cageling newly flown returns,
The seeming-injured simple-hearted thing
Game to her old perch back, and settled there.
There while she sat, half-falling from his knees.
Half-nestled at his heart, and since he saw
The slow tear creep from her closed eyelid yet,
About her, more in kindness than in love.
The gentle wizard cast a shielding arm.
But she dislink’d herself at once and rose.
Her arms upon her breast across, and stood
A virtuous gentlewoman deeply wrong’d.
Upright and flush’d before him : then she said :
“ There must be now no passages of love
Betwixt us twain henceforward evermore.
Since, if I be what I am grossly call’d.
What should be granted which your own gross heart
Would reckon worth the taking? I will go.
In truth, but one thing now — better have died
Thrice than have ask’d it once — could make me stay —
That proof of trust — so often ask’d in vain !
How justly, after that vile term of yours,
I find with grief! I might believe you then.
Who knows? once more. O, what was once to me
Mere matter of the fancy, now has grown
The vast necessity of heart and life.
Farewell ; think kindly of me, for I fear
My fate or fault, omitting gayer youth
For one so old, must be to love you still.
93
IDYLLS OF THE KING
But ere I leave you let me swear once more
That if I schemed against your peace in this,
May yon just Heaven, that darkens o’er me, send
One flash, that, missing all things else, may make
My scheming brain a cinder, if I lie.”
Scarce had she ceased, when out of Heaven a bolt
(For now the storm was close above them) struck.
Furrowing a giant oak, and javelining
With darted spikes and splinters of the wood
The dark earth round. He raised his eyes and saw
The tree that shone white-listed thro* the gloom.
But Vivien, fearing Heaven had heard her oath.
And dazzled by the livid-flickering fork.
And deafen’d with the stammering cracks and claps
That follow’d, flying back and crying out,
“ O Merlin, tho’ you do not love me, save.
Yet save me!” clung to him and hugg’d him close;
And call’d him dear protector in her fright.
Nor yet forgot her practice in her fright.
But wrought upon his mood and hugg’d him close.
The pale blood of the wizard at her touch
Took gayer colours, like an opal warm’d.
She blamed herself for telling hearsay tales :
She shook from fear, and for her fault she wept
Of petulancy ; she call’d him lord and liege.
Her seer, her bard, her silver star of eve.
Her God, her Merlin, the one passionate love
Of her whole life ; and ever overhead
Bellow’d the tempest, and the rotten branch
Snapt in the rushing of the river-rain
94
And in the hollow oak he lay as dead,
And lost to life and use and name and fame.
Page 95
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Above them ; and in change of glare and gloom
Her eyes and neck glittering went and came ;
Till now the storm, its burst of passion spent,
Moaning and calling out of other lands.
Had left the ravaged woodland yet once more
To peace ; and what should not have been had been,
For Merlin, overtalk’d and overworn.
Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept.
Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm
Of woven paces and of waving hands.
And in the hollow oak he lay as dead.
And lost to life and use and name and fame.
Then crying “ I have made his glory mine,’*
And shrieking out ‘ ‘ O fool ! ” the harlot leapt
Adown the forest, and the thicket closed
Behind her, and the forest echo’d “fool.**
o
95
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ELAINE
W
ELAINE
LAINE the fair, Elaine the lovable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ;
Which first she placed where morning’s earliest
ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam ;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashion’d for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazon’d on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower.
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day.
Leaving her household and good father, climb’d
That eastern tower, and entering barr’d her door,
Stript oflf the case, and read the naked shield.
Now guess’d a hidden meaning in his arms.
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it.
Conjecturing when and where: this cut is fresh;
99
IDYLLS OF THE KING
That ten years back ; this dealt him at Gaerlyle ;
That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot :
And ah, God’s mercy, what a stroke was there!
And here a thrust that might have kill’d, but God
Broke the strong lance, and roll’d his enemy down,
And saved him : so she lived in fantasy.
How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not ev’n his name ?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts.
Which Arthur had ordain’d, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.
For Arthur when none knew from whence he came
Long ere the people chose him for their King,
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse,
Had found a glen, grey boulder and black tarn.
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave
Like its own mists to all the mountain side :
For here two brothers, one a king, had met
And fought together ; but their names were lost.
And each had slain his brother at a blow.
And down they fell and made the glen abhorr’d :
And there they lay till all their bones were bleach’d,
And lichen’d into colour with the crags :
And he, that once was king, had on a crown
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass
All in a misty moonshine, unawares
Had trodden that crown’d skeleton, and the skull
100
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Brake from the nape, and from the skull the crown
Roll’d into light, and turning on its rims
Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn:
And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught.
And set it on his head, and in his heart
Heard murmurs, “Lo, thou likewise shalt be King.”
'HEREAFTER, when a King, he had the gems
Pluck’d from the crown, and show’d them to
his knights.
Saying, “These jewels, whereupon I chanced
Divinely, are the kingdom’s, not the King’s —
For public use : henceforward let there be.
Once every year, a joust for one of these :
For so by nine years’ proof we needs must learn
Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow
In use of arms and manhood, till we drive
The Heathen, who, some say, shall rule the land
Hereafter, which God hinder.” Thus he spoke:
And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and still
Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year.
With purpose to present them to the Queen,
When all were won ; but meaning all at once
To snare her royal fancy with a boon
Worth half her realm, had never spoken word.
Now for the central diamond and the la^
And larged, Arthur, holding then his court
Hard on the river nigh the place which now
Is this world’s huge^, let proclaim a jou^
At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh
101
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Spake (for she had been sick) to Guinevere :
“Are you so sick, my Queen, you cannot move
To these fair jousts?” “Yea, lord,” she said, “you know it.”
“Then will you miss,” he answer’d, “the great deeds
Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists,
A sight you love to look on.” And the Queen
Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly
On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King.
He thinking that he read her meaning there,
“Stay with me, I am sick; my love is more
Than many diamonds,” yielded, and a heart
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen
(However much he yearn’d to make complete
The tale of diamonds for his destined boon)
Urged him to speak against the truth, and say,
“Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly whole.
And lets me from the saddle;” and the King
Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way.
No sooner gone than suddenly she began:
“To blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much to blame.
Why go you not to these fair jousts? the knights
Are half of them our enemies, and the crowd
Will murmur, ‘Lo the shameless ones, who take
Their pastime now the trustful King is gone!’”
Then Lancelot vext at having lied in vain:
“Are you so wise? you were not once so wise.
My Queen, that summer when you loved me first.
Then of the crowd you took no more account
Than of the myriad cricket of the mead.
When its own voice clings to each blade of grass.
102
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
And every voice is nothing. As to knights,
Them surely can I silence with all ease.
But now my loyal worship is allow’d
Of all men: many a bard, without offence.
Has link’d our names together in his lay,
Lancelot, the flower of bravery, Guinevere,
The pearl of beauty : and our knights at feast
Have pledged us in this union, while the King
Would listen smiling. How then? is there more?
Has Arthur spoken aught? or would yourself,
Now weary of my service and devoir.
Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord?”
She broke into a little scornful laugh :
“Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless King,
That passionate perfection, my good lord —
But who can gaze upon the Sun in Heaven?
He never spake word of reproach to me.
He never had a glimpse of mine untruth.
He cares not for me : only here to-day
There gleam’d a vague suspicion in his eyes :
Some meddling rogue has tamper’d with him — else
Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round,
And swearing men to vows impossible.
To make them like himself : but, friend, to me
He is all fault who hath no fault at all:
For who loves me must have a touch of earth ;
The low sun makes the colour : I am yours.
Not Arthur’s, as you know, save by the bond.
And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts :
The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream
X03
IDYLLS OF THE KING
When sweetest ; and the vermin voices here
May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they sting.”
Then answer’d Lancelot, the chief of knights :
“And with what face, after my pretext made.
Shall I appear. O Queen, at Gamelot, I
Before a King who honours his own word.
As if it were his God’s?”
“Yea,” said the Queen,
“A moral child without the craft to rule.
Else had he not lost me : but listen to me.
If I must find you wit : we hear it said
That men go down before your spear at a touch
But knowing you are Lancelot ; your great name.
This conquers : hide it therefore ; go unknown :
Win ! by this kiss you will : and our true King
Will then allow your pretext, O my knight,
As all for glory ; for to speak him true.
You know right well, how meek soe’er he seem.
No keener hunter after glory breathes.
He loves it in his knights more than himself :
They prove to him his work : win and return.”
HEN got Sir Lancelot suddenly to horse.
Wroth at himself : not willing to be known.
He left the barren-beaten thoroughfare.
Chose the green path that show’d the rarer foot.
And there among the solitary downs.
Full often lost in fancy, lost his way ;
Till as he traced a faintly-shadow’d track.
That all in loops and links among the dales
104
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw
Fired from the west, far on a hill the towers.
Thither he made and wound the gateway horn.
Then came an old, dumb, myriad-wrinkled man,
Who let him into lodging and disarm’d.
And Lancelot marvell’d at the wordless man;
And issuing found the Lord of Astolat
With two strong sons. Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine,
Moving to meet him in the castle court ;
And close behind them stept the lily maid
Elaine, his daughter : mother of the house
There was not : some light jest among them rose
With laughter dying down as the great knight
Approach’d them : then the Lord of Astolat :
“ Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what name
Livest between the lips ? for by thy state
And presence I might guess thee chief of those.
After the King, who eat in Arthur’s halls.
Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Round,
Known as they are, to me they are unknown.”
Then answer’d Lancelot, the chief of knights :
” Known am I, and of Arthur’s hall, and known.
What I by mere mischance have brought, my shield.
But since I go to joust as one unknown
At Gamelot for the diamond, ask me not.
Hereafter you shall know me — and the shield —
I pray you lend me one, if such you have.
Blank, or at least with some device not mine.”
Then said the Lord of Astolat, “ Here is Torre’
105
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Hurt in his first tilt was my son, Sir Torre.
And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough.
His you can have.” Then added plain Sir Torre,
“Yea, since I cannot use it, you may have it.”
Here laugh’d the father, saying, “Fie, Sir Churl,
Is that an answer for a noble knight?
Allow him ; but Lavaine, my younger here.
He is so full of lustihood, he will ride.
Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour
And set it in this damsel’s golden hair.
To make her thrice as wilful as before.”
“Nay, father, nay, good father, shame me not
Before this noble knight,” said young Lavaine,
“ For nothing. Surely I but play’d on Torre :
He seem’d so sullen, vext he could not go :
A jest, no more : for, knight, the maiden dreamt
That someone put this diamond in her hand.
And that it was too slippery to be held.
And slipt and fell into some pool or stream,
The castle-well, belike ; and then I said
That if I went and if I fought and won it
(But all was jest and joke among ourselves).
Then must she keep it safelier. All was jest.
But, father, give me leave, an’ if he will.
To ride to Gamelot with this noble knight :
Win shall I not, but do my best to win :
Young as I am, yet would I do my best.”
“So you will grace me,” answer’d Lancelot,
Smiling a moment, “with your fellowship
106
IDYLLS OF THE KING
O’er these waste downs whereon I lost myself,
Then were I glad of you as guide and friend ;
And you shall win this diamond, — as I hear
It is a fair large diamond, — if you may.
And yield it to this maiden, if you will.”
“A fair large diamond,” added plain Sir Torre,
“Such be for queens, and not for simple maids.”
Then she, who held her eyes upon the ground,
Elaine, and heard her name so tost about.
Flush’d slightly at the slight disparagement
Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her.
Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus return’d :
“ If what is fair be but for what is fair.
And only queens are to be counted so.
Rash were my judgement then, who deem this maid
Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth.
Not violating the bond of like to like.”
E spoke and ceased : the lily maid Elaine,
Won by the mellow voice before she look’d.
Lifted her eyes, and read his lineaments.
The great and guilty love he bare the Queen,
In battle with the love he bare his lord,
Had marr’d his face, and mark’d it ere his time.
Another sinning on such heights with one.
The flower of all the west and all the world.
Had been the sleeker for it : but in him
His mood was often like a fiend, and rose
And drove him into wastes and solitudes
For agony, who was yet a living soul.
Marr’d as he was, he seem’d the goodliest man
107
IDYLLS OF THE KING
That ever among ladies ate in hall,
And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes.
However marr’d, of more than twice her years.
Seam’d with an ancient swordcut on the cheek.
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes
And loved him, with that love which was her doom.
Then the great knight, the darling of the court,
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude hall
Stept with all grace, and not with half disdain
Hid under grace, as in a smaller time.
But kindly man moving among his kind :
Whom they with meats and vintage of their best
And talk and minstrel melody entertain’d.
And much they ask’d of court and Table Round,
And ever well and readily answer’d he :
But Lancelot, when they glanced at Guinevere,
Suddenly speaking of the wordless man.
Heard from the Baron that, ten years before,
The Heathen caught and reft him of his tongue.
“He learnt and warn’d me of their fierce design
Against my house, and him they caught and maim’d ;
But I, my sons and little daughter fled
From bonds or death, and dwelt among the woods
By the great river in a boatman’s hut.
Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke
The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill.”
“O there, great lord, doubtless,” Lavaine said, rapt
By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth
Toward greatness in its elder, “you have fought.
108
IDYLLS OF THE KING
O tell US — for we live apart you know —
Of Arthur’s glorious wars.” And Lancelot spoke
And answer’d him at full, as having been
With Arthur in the fight which all day long
Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem ;
And in the four wild battles by the shore
Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war
That thunder’d in and out the gloomy skirts
Of Gelidon the forest ; and again
By castle Gurnion, where the glorious King
Had on his cuirass worn our Lady’s Head,
Carved of one emerald, centr’d in a sun
Of silver rays, that lighten’d as he breathed ;
And at Gaerleon had he help’d his lord.
When the strong neighings of the wild White Horse
Set every gilded parapet shuddering ;
And up in Agned-Gathregonion too.
And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Treroit,
Where many a heathen fell ; “ and on the mount
Of Badon I myself beheld the King
Charge at the head of all his Table Round,
And all his legions crying Christ and him.
And break them ; and I saw him, after, stand
High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume
Red as the rising sun with heathen blood.
And seeing me, with a great voice he cried
‘ They are broken, they are broken ! ’ for the King,
However mild he seems at home, nor cares
For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts —
For if his own knight cast him down, he laughs
Saying, his knights are better men than he —
109
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Yet in this heathen war the fire of God
Fills him : I never saw his like : there lives
No greater leader.”
While he utter’d this,
Low to her own heart said the lily maid,
“ Save your great self, fair lord ; ” and when he fell
From talk of war to traits of pleasantry —
Being mirthful he, but in a stately kind —
She still took note that when the living smile
Died from his lips, across him came a cloud
Of melancholy severe, from which again.
Whenever in her hovering to and fro
The lily maid had striven to make him cheer,
There brake a sudden beaming tenderness
Of manners and of nature : and she thought
That all was nature, all, perchance, for her.
And all night long his face before her lived.
As when a painter, poring on a face.
Divinely thro* all hindrance finds the man
Behind it, and so paints him that his face.
The shape and colour of a mind and life.
Lives for his children, ever at its best
And fullest ; so the face before her lived.
Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full
Of noble things, and held her from her sleep.
Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought
She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine.
First as in fear, step after step, she stole
Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating ;
Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court,
“This shield, my friend, where is it?” and Lavaine
no
en to her tower she climb'd, and took the shield,
ere kept it, and so lived in fantasy.
Page 112
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
Past inward, as she came from out the tower.
There to his proud horse Lancelot turn’d, and smooth’d
The glossy shoulder, humming to himself.
Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew
Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more amazed
Than if seven men had set upon him, saw
The maiden standing in the dewy light.
He had not dream 'd she was so beautiful.
Then came on him a sort of sacred fear.
For silent, tho’ he greeted her, she stood
Rapt on his face as if it were a God’s.
Suddenly flash’d on her a wild desire.
That he should wear her favour at the tilt.
She braved a riotous heart in asking for it.
“Fair lord, whose name I know not — noble it is,
I well believe, the noblest — will you wear
My favour at this tourney?” “ Nay,” said he,
“Fair lady, since I never yet have worn
Favour of any lady in the lists.
Such is my wont, as those, who know me, know.”
“Yea, so,” she answer’d; “ then in wearing mine
Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord.
That those who know should know you.” And he turn’d
Her counsel up and down within his mind.
And found it true, and answer’d, “ True, my child.
Well, I will wear it : fetch it out to me :
What is it ? ” and she told him ‘ ‘ A red sleeve
Broider’d with pearls,” and brought it : then he bound
Her token on his helmet, with a smile.
Saying, “ I never yet have done so much
For any maiden living,” and the blood
111
<5
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Sprang to her face and fill’d her with delight ;
But left her all the paler, when Lavaine
Returning brought the yet-unblazon’d shield,
His brother’s ; which he gave to Lancelot,
Who parted with his own to fair Elaine ;
“Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield
In keeping till I come.” “A grace to me,”
She answer’d, “twice to-day. I am your Squire,”
Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, “Lily maid.
For fear our people call you lily maid
In earnest, let me bring your colour back ;
Once, twice, and thrice : now get you hence to bed
So kiss’d her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand.
And thus they moved away : she stay’d a minute.
Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there —
Her bright hair blown about the serious face
Yet rosy kindled with her brother’s kiss —
Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield
In silence, while she watch’d their arms far-oflf
Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs.
Then to her tower she climb’d, and took the shield.
There kept it, and so lived in fantasy.
Meanwhile the new companions past away
Far o’er the long backs of the bushless downs.
To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight
Not far from Gamelot, now for forty years
A hermit, who had pray’d, labour’d and pray’d
And ever labouring had scoop’d himself
In the white rock a chapel and a hall
On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave,
112
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And cells and chambers : all were fair and dry ;
The green light from the meadows underneath
Struck up and lived along the milky roofs ;
And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees
And poplars made a noise of falling showers.
And thither wending there that night they bode.
when the next day broke from underground,
And shot red fire and shadows thro’ the cave,
They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode
away :
Then Lancelot saying, “Hear, but hold my
name
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake,”
Abash’d Lavaine, whose instant reverence,
Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise,
But left him leave to stammer, ** Is it indeed ? ”
And after muttering, ” The great Lancelot,”
At last he got his breath and answer'd, “One,
One have I seen — that other, our liege lord.
The dread Pendragon, Britain’s King of kings,
Of whom the people talk mysteriously,
He will be there — then were I stricken blind
That minute, I might say that I had seen.”
So spake Lavaine, and when they reach’d the lists
By Gamelot in the meadow, let his eyes
Run thro’ the peopled gallery which half round
Lay like a rainbow fall’n upon the grass.
Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat
Robed in red samite, easily to be known,
113
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Since to his crown the golden dragon clung,
And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold,
And from the carven-work behind him crept
Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make
Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them
Thro’ knots and loops and folds innumerable
Fled ever thro’ the woodwork, till they found
The new design wherein they lost themselves.
Yet with all ease, so tender was the work;
And, in the costly canopy o’er him set.
Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king.
HEN Lancelot answer’d young Lavaine and
said,
“Me you call great: mine is the firmer seat,
The truer lance : but there is many a youth
Now crescent, who will come to all I am
And overcome it ; and in me there dwells
No greatness, save it be some far-oflf touch
Of greatness to know well I am not great :
There is the man.’’ And Lavaine gaped upon him
As on a thing miraculous, and anon
The trumpets blew ; and then did either side.
They that assail’d, and they that held the lists.
Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move.
Meet in the midst, and there so furiously
Shock, that a man far-oflf might well perceive,
If any man that day were left afield.
The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms.
And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw
Which were the weaker ; then he hurl’d into it
114
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Against the stronger : little need to speak
Of Lancelot in his glory : King, duke, earl,
Count, baron — whom he smote, he overthrew.
But in the field were Lancelot’s kith and kin.
Ranged with the Table Round that held the lists
Strong men, and wrathful that a stranger knight
Should do and almost overdo the deeds
Of Lancelot ; and one said to the other, ‘ ‘ Lo I
What is he ? I do not mean the force alone.
The grace and versatility of the man —
Is it not Lancelot ? ” “ When has Lancelot worn
Favour of any lady in the lists ?
Not such his wont, as we, that know him, know.”
“How then? who then?” a fury seized on them,
A fiery family passion for the name
Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs.
They couch’d their spears and prick’d their steeds, and thus.
Their plumes driv’n backward by the wind they made
In moving, all together down upon him
Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North Sea,
Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all
Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies,
Down on a bark, and overbears the bark.
And him that helms it, so they overbore
Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear
Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear
Prick’d sharply his own cuirass, and the head
Pierced thro’ his side and there snapt, and remain’d.
Then Sir Lavaine did well and worshipfully ;
115
IDYLLS OF THE KING
He bore a knight of old repute to the earth,
And brought his horse to Lancelot where he lay.
He up the side, sweating with agony, got.
But thought to do while he might yet endure.
And being lustily holpen by the rest.
His party, — tho’ it seemed half-miracle
To those he fought with — drave his kith and kin,
And all the Table Round that held the lists.
Back to the barrier; then the heralds blew
Proclaiming his the prize, who wore the sleeve
Of scarlet, and the pearls; and all the knights.
His party, cried “ Advance, and take your prize
The diamond;” but he answer’d, “Diamond me
No diamonds! for God’s love, a little air!
Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death!
Hence will I, and I charge you, follow me not.”
He spoke, and vanish’d suddenly from the field
With young Lavaine into the poplar grove.
There from his charger down he slid, and sat.
Gasping to Sir Lavaine, “Draw the lance-head:”
“Ah my sweet lord Sir Lancelot,” said Lavaine,
“I dread me, if I draw it, you will die.”
But he, “ I die already with it : draw —
Draw,” — and Lavaine drew, and that other gave
A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan.
And half his blood burst forth, and down he sank
For the pure pain, and wholly swoon’d away.
Then came the hermit out and bare him in,
There stanch’d his wound ; and there, in daily doubt
Whether to live or die, for many a week
116
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Hid from the wide world’s rumour by the grove
Of poplars with their noise of falling showers,
And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay.
But on that day when Lancelot fled the lists.
His party, knights of utmost North and West,
Lords of waste marches, kings of desolate isles.
Game round their great Pendragon, saying to him,
“ Lo, Sire, our knight thro’ whom we won the day
Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize
Untaken, crying that his prize is death.”
“Heaven hinder,” said the King, “that such an one,
So great a knight as we have seen to-day —
He seem’d to me another Lancelot —
Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot —
He must not pass uncared for. Gawain, rise.
My nephew, and ride forth and find the knight.
Wounded and wearied needs must he be near.
I charge you that you get at once to horse.
And, knights and kings, there breathes not one of you
Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given :
His prowess was too wondrous. We will do him
No customary honour ; since the knight
Came not to us, of us to claim the prize.
Ourselves will send it after. Wherefore take
This diamond, and deliver it, and return.
And bring us what he is, and how he fares.
And cease not from your quest until you find.”
So saying, from the carven flower above.
To which it made a restless heart, he took,
117
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And gave, the diamond : then from where he sat
At Arthur’s right, with smiling face arose,
With smiling face and frowning heart, a Prince
In the mid might and flourish of his May,
Gawain, surnamed The Courteous, fair and strong.
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Geraint
And Lamorack, a good knight, but therewithal
Sir Modred’s brother, of a crafty house.
Nor often loyal to his word, and now
Wroth that the King’s command to sally forth
In quest of whom he knew not, made him leave
The banquet, and concourse of knights and kings.
O all in wrath he got to horse and went ;
While Arthur to the banquet, dark in mood.
Past, thinking, “Is it Lancelot who has come
Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain
Of glory, and has added wound to wound.
And ridd’n away to die?” So fear’d the King,
And, after two days’ tarriance there, return’d.
Then when he saw the Queen, embracing ask’d,
“Love, are you yet so sick?” “Nay, Lord,” she said.
“And where is Lancelot?” Then the Queen amazed,
“Was he not with you? won he not your prize?”
“Nay, but one like him.” “Why that like was he.”
And when the King demanded how she knew.
Said, “Lord, no sooner had you parted from us.
Than Lancelot told me of a common talk
That men went down before his spear at a touch
But knowing he was Lancelot ; his great name
Conquer’d ; and therefore would he hide his name
118
Bui to be with you still, to see your face,
'^o serve you, and to follow you thro’ the world.
Page 130
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
From all men, ev’n the King, and to this end
Had made the pretext of a hindering wound,
That he might joust unknown of all, and learn
If his old prowess were in aught decay’d :
And added, ‘our true Arthur, when he learns.
Will well allow my pretext, as for gain
Of purer glory.*”
Then replied the King :
“Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been,
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth.
To have trusted me as he has trusted you.
Surely his King and most familiar friend
Might well have kept his secret. True, indeed.
Albeit I know my knights fantastical.
So fine a fear in our large Lancelot
Must needs have moved my laughter : now remains
But little cause for laughter : his own kin —
111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, these !
His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him ;
So that he went sore wounded from the field :
Yet good news too : for goodly hopes are mine
That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart.
He wore, against his wont, upon his helm
A sleeve of scarlet, broidered with great pearls.
Some gentle maiden’s gift.”
“Yea, lord,” she said,
“Your hopes are mine,” and saying that she choked.
And sharply turn’d about to hide her face.
Moved to her chamber, and there flung herself
Down on the great King’s couch, and writhed upon it.
And clench’d her fingers till they bit the palm,
119
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And shriek’d out “Traitor” to the unhearing wall.
Then flash’d into wild tears, and rose again,
And moved about her palace, proud and pale.
Gawain the while thro* all the region round
Rode with his diamond, wearied of the quest.
Touch’d at all points, except the poplar grove.
And came at last, tho’ late, to Astolat :
Whom glittering in enamell’d arms the maid
Glanced at, and cried ” What news from Gamelot, lord ?
What of the knight with the red sleeve?” “He won.”
“I knew it,” she said. “But parted from the jousts
Hurt in the side,” whereat she caught her breath ;
Thro’ her own side she felt the sharp lance go ;
Thereon she smote her hand : wellnigh she swoon’d :
And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, came
The lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince
Reported who he was, and on what quest
Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find
The victor, but had ridden wildly round
To seek him, and was wearied of the search.
To whom the lord of Astolat, “Bide with us.
And ride no longer wildly, noble Prince !
Here was the knight, and here he left a shield ;
This will he send or come for: furthermore
Our son is with him ; we shall hear anon,
Needs must we hear.” To this the courteous Prince
Accorded with his wonted courtesy,
Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it.
And stay’d ; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine :
Where could be found face daintier ? then her shape
120
IDYLLS OF THE KING
From forehead down to foot perfect — again
From foot to forehead exquisitely turn’d :
“Well — if I bide, lo ! this wild flower for me I”
And oft they met among the golden yews,
And there he set himself to play upon her
With sallying wit, free flashes from a height
Above her, graces of the court, and songs.
Sighs, and slow smiles, and garden eloquence
And amorous adulation, till the maid
Rebell’d against it, saying to him, “ Prince,
O loyal nephew of our noble King,
Why ask you not to see the shield he left.
Whence you might learn his name ? Why slight your King,
And lose the quest he sent you on, and prove
No surer than our falcon yesterday.
Who lost the hern we slipt him at, and went
To all the winds?” “Nay, by mine head,” said he,
“I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven,
O damsel, in the light of your blue eyes :
But an’ you will it let me see the shield.”
And when the shield was brought, and Gawain saw
Sir Lancelot’s azure lions, crown’d with gold.
Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and mock’d ;
“Right was the King! our Lancelot! that true man!”
“And right was I,” she answer’d merrily, “I,
Who dream’d my knight the greatest knight of all.”
“And if / dream’d,” said Gawain, “that you love
This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo, you know it !
Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain ? ”
Full simple was her answer, “ What know I ?
My brethren have been all my fellowship,
121
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And I, when often they have talk’d of love,
Wish’d it had been my mother, for they talk’d,
Meseem’d, of what they knew not ; so myself —
I know not if I know what true love is.
But if I know, then, if I love not him,
Methinks there is none other that I can love.”
“Yea, by God’s death,” said he, “you love him well.
But would not, knew you what all others know.
And whom he loves.” “So be it,” cried Elaine,
And lifted her fair face and moved away :
But he pursued her, calling “Stay a little!
One golden minute’s grace : he wore your sleeve :
Would he break faith with one I may not name ?
Must our true man change like a leaf at last ?
Nay — like enough : why then, far be it from me
To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves !
And, damsel, for I deem you know full well
Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave
My quest with you ; the diamond also : here !
For if you love, it will be sweet to give it ;
And if he love, it will be sweet to have it
From your own hand ; and whether he love or not,
A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well
A thousand times ! — a thousand times farewell !
Yet, if he love, and his love hold, we two
May meet at court hereafter : there, I think,
So you will learn the courtesies of the court.
We two shall know each other.”
Then he gave.
And slightly kiss’d the hand to which he gave,
The diamond, and all wearied of the quest
122
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Leapt on his horse, and carolling as he went
A true-love ballad, lightly rode away.
HENCE to the court he past ; there told the
King
What the King knew, “ Sir Lancelot is the
knight.”
And added, “Sire, my liege, so much I learnt;
But fail’d to find him tho’ I rode all round
The region : but I lighted on the maid
Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him ; and to her,
Deeming our courtesy is‘ the truest law,
I gave the diamond : she will render it ;
For by mine head she knows his hiding-place.”
The seldom-frowning King frown’d, and replied,
“Too courteous truly! you shall go no more
On quest of mine, seeing that you forget
Obedience is the courtesy due to kings.”
He spake and parted. Wroth but all in awe.
For twenty strokes of the blood, without a word.
Linger’d that other, staring after him ;
Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz’d abroad
About the maid of Astolat, and her love.
All ears were prick’d at once, all tongues were loosed :
“The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot,
Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat.”
Some read the King’s face, some the Queen’s, and all
Had marvel what the maid might be, but most
Predoom’d her as unworthy. One old dame
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news.
She, that had heard the noise of it before,
But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop’d so low,
Marr’d her friend’s point with pale tranquillity.
So ran the tale like fire about the court,
Fire in dry stubble a nine days* wonder flared;
Till ev’n the knights at banquet twice or thrice
Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen,
And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid
Smiled at each other, while the Queen who sat
With lips severely placid felt the knot
Climb in her throat, and with her feet unseen
Crush’d the wild passion out against the floor
Beneath the banquet, where the meats became
As wormwood, and she hated all who pledged.
But far away the maid in Astolat,
Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept
The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart.
Crept to her father, while he mused alone.
Sat on his knee, stroked his grey face and said,
“ Father, you call me wilful, and the fault
Is yours who let me have my will, and now.
Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits?”
“Nay,” said he, “surely.” “Wherefore, let me hence,”
She answer’d, “and find out our dear Lavaine.”
“You will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine :
Bide,” answer’d he: “we needs must hear anon
Of him, and of that other.” “ Aye,” she said,
“ And of that other, for I needs must hence
And find that other, wheresoe’er he be,
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
And with mine own hand give his diamond to him,
Lest I be found as faithless in the quest
As yon proud Prince who left the quest to me.
Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself.
Death-pale, for lack of gentle maiden’s aid.
The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound,
My father, to be sweet and serviceable
To noble knights in sickness, as you know.
When these have worn their tokens : let me hence,
I pray you.” Then her father nodding said,
“ Aye, aye, the diamond : wit you well, my child.
Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole.
Being our greatest : yea, and you must give it —
And sure I think this fruit is hung too high
For any mouth to gape for save a queen’s —
Nay, I mean nothing : so then, get you gone.
Being so very wilful you must go.”
IGHTLY, her suit allow’d, she slipt away.
And while she made her ready for her ride,
Her father’s latest word humm’d in her ear,
“Being so very wilful you must go,”
And changed itself and echoed in her heart,
“Being so very wilful you must die.”
But she was happy enough and shook it off.
As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us ;
And in her heart she answer’d it and said,
“ What matter, so I help him back to life ? ”
Then far away with good Sir Torre for guide
Rode o’er the long backs of the bushless downs
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
To Gamelot, and before the city -gates
Game on her brother with a happy face
Making a roan horse caper and curvet
For pleasure all about a field of flowers :
Whom when she saw, “ Lavaine,” she cried, “ Lavaine,
How fares my lord Sir Lancelot ? ” He amazed,
“Torre and Elaine! why here? Sir Lancelot!
How know you my lord’s name is Lancelot ? ”
But when the maid had told him all her tale.
Then turn’d Sir Torre, and being in his moods
Left them, and under the strange-statued gate.
Where Arthur’s wars were render’d mystically,
Past up the still rich city to his kin.
His own far blood, which dwelt at Gamelot ;
And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove
Led to the caves: there first she saw the casque
Of Lancelot on the wall : her scarlet sleeve,
Tho’ carved and cut, and half the pearls away.
Stream’d from it still ; and in her heart she laugh’d.
Because he had not loosed it from his helm.
But meant once more perchance to tourney in it.
And when they gain’d the cell in which he slept.
His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands
Lay naked on the wolfskin, and a dream
Of dragging down his enemy made them move.
Then she that saw him lying unsleek, unshorn.
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself.
Utter’d a little tender dolorous cry.
The sound not wonted in a place so still
Woke the sick knight, and while he roll’d his eyes
Yet blank from sleep, she started to him, saying,
126
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“Your prize the diamond sent you by the King:”
His eyes glisten’d: she fancied “Is it for me?”
And when the maid had told him all the tale
Of King and Prince, the diamond sent, the quest
Assign’d to her not worthy of it, she knelt
Full lowly by the corners of his bed.
And laid the diamond in his open hand.
Her face was near, and as we kiss the child
That does the task assign’d, he kiss’d her face.
At once she slipt like water to the floor.
“Alas,” he said, “your ride has wearied you.
Rest must you have.” “No rest for me,” she said;
“Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest.”
What might she mean by that ? his large black eyes,
Yet larger thro’ his leanness, dwelt upon her.
Till all her heart’s sad secret blazed itself
In the heart’s colours on her simple face ;
And Lancelot look’d and was perplext in mind,
And being weak in body said no more ;
But did not love the colour ; woman’s love,
Save one, he not regarded, and so turn’d
Sighing, and feign’d a sleep until he slept.
HEN rose Elaine and glided thro’ the fields,
And past beneath the wildly-sculptured gates
Far up the dim rich city to her kin ;
There bode the night : but woke with dawn,
and past
Down thro’ the dim rich city to the fields.
Thence to the cave : so day by day she past
In either twilight ghost-like to and fro
127
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Gliding, and every day she tended him,
And likewise many a night: and Lancelot
Would, tho’ he call’d his wound a little hurt
Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times
Brain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem
Uncourteous, even he : but the meek maid
Sweetly forbore him ever, being to him
Meeker than any child to a rough nurse.
Milder than any mother to a sick child.
And never woman yet, since man’s first fall.
Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love
Upbore her ; till the hermit, skill’d in all
The simples and the science of that time.
Told him that her fine care had saved his life.
And the sick man forgot her simple blush.
Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine,
Would listen for her coming and regret
Her parting step, and held her tenderly.
And loved her with all love except the love
Of man and woman when they love their best.
Closest and sweetest, and had died the death
In any knightly fashion for her sake.
And peradventure had he seen her first
She might have made this and that other world
Another world for the sick man ; but now
The shackles of an old love straiten’d him.
His honour rooted in dishonour stood,
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
Yet the great knight in his mid-sickness made
Full many a holy vow and pure resolve.
128
IDYLLS OF THE KING
These, as but born of sickness, could not live :
For when the blood ran lustier in him again.
Full often the sweet image of one face.
Making a treacherous quiet in his heart.
Dispersed his resolution like a cloud.
Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace
Beam’d on his fancy, spoke, he answer’d not.
Or short and coldly, and she knew right well
What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant
She knew not, and the sorrow dimm’d her sight.
And drave her ere her time across the fields
Far into the rich city, where alone
She murmur’d, “Vain, in vain: it cannot be.
He will not love me : how then ? must I die ? ”
Then as a little helpless innocent bird,
That has but one plain passage of few notes.
Will sing the simple passage o’er and o’er
For all an April morning, till the ear
Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid
Went half the night repeating, “Must I die?”
And now to right she turn’d, and now to left.
And found no ease in turning or in rest ;
And “Him or death, ’’she mutter’d, “death or him,”
Again and like a burthen, “Him or death.”
But when Sir Lancelot’s deadly hurt was whole,
To Astolat returning rode the three.
There morn by morn, arraying her sweet self
In that wherein she deem’d she look’d her best,
She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought
“ If I be loved, these are my festal robes ;
129
IDYLLS OF THE KING
If not, the victim’s flowers before he fall.”
And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid
That she should ask some goodly gift of him
For her own self or hers ; “and do not shun
To speak the wish most near to your true heart ;
Such service have you done me, that I make
My will of yours, and Prince and Lord am I
In mine own land, and what I will I can.”
Then like a ghost she lifted up her face,
But like a ghost without the power to speak.
And Lancelot saw that she withheld her wish,
And bode among them yet a little space
Till he should learn it ; and one morn it chanced
He found her in among the garden yews,
And said, ‘ ‘ Delay no longer, speak your wish,
Seeing I must go to-day : ” then out she brake ;
“Going? and we shall never see you more.
And I must die for want of one bold word.”
“Speak: that I live to hear,” he said, “is yours.”
Then suddenly and passionately she spoke :
“I have gone mad. I love you : let me die.”
‘‘Ah, sister,” answer’d Lancelot, “what is this?”
And innocently extending her white arms,
“Your love,” she said, “your love — to be your wife.”
And Lancelot answer’d, “Had I chos’n to wed,
I had been wedded earlier, sweet Elaine :
But now there never will be wife of mine.”
“ No, no,” she cried, “ I care not to be wife.
But to be with you still, to see your face.
To serve you, and to follow you thro’ the world.”
And Lancelot answer’d, “ Nay, the world, the world,
130
IDYLLS OF THE KING
All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart
To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue
To blare its own interpretation — nay,
Full ill then should I quit your brother’s love,
And your good father’s kindness.” And she said,
“Not to be with you, not to see your face —
Alas for me then, my good days are done.”
“Nay, noble maid,” he answer’d, “ten times nay!
This is not love: but love’s first flash in youth.
Most common : yea, I know it of mine own self :
And you yourself will smile at your own self
Hereafter, when you yield your flower of life
To one more fitly yours, not thrice your age :
And then will I, for true you are and sweet
Beyond mine old belief in womanhood.
More specially should your good knight be poor.
Endow you with broad land and territory
Even to the half my realm beyond the seas,
So that would make you happy : furthermore,
Ev’n to the death, as tho’ you were my blood,
In all your quarrels will I be your knight.
This will I do, dear damsel, for your sake,
And more than this I cannot.”
While he spoke
She neither blush’d nor shook, but deathly-pale
Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied ;
“ Of all this will I nothing ; ” and so fell.
And thus they bore her swooning to her tower.
Then spake, to whom thro’ those black walls of yew
Their talk had pierced, her father. “Aye, a flash,
131
IDYLLS OF THE KING
I fear me, that will strike my blossom dead.
Too courteous are you, fair Lord Lancelot.
I pray you, use some rough discourtesy
To blunt or break her passion.”
Lancelot said,
“That were against me: what I can I will;”
And there that day remain’d, and toward even
Sent for his shield : full meekly rose the maid,
Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield ;
Then, when she heard his horse upon the stones.
Unclasping flung the casement back, and look’d
Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had gone.
And Lancelot knew the little clinking sound ;
And she by tact of love was well aware
That Lancelot knew that she was looking at him.
And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his hand,
Nor bade farewell, but sadly rode away.
This was the one discourtesy that he used.
O in her tower alone the maiden sat:
His very shield was gone; only the case.
Her own poor work, her empty labour, left.
But still she heard him, still his picture
form’d
And grew between her and the pictured wall.
Then came her father, saying in low tones,
“Have comfort,” whom she greeted quietly.
Then came her brethren saying, “ Peace to thee.
Sweet sister,” whom she answer’d with all calm.
But when they left her to herself again,
132
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Death, like a friend’s voice from a distant field
Approaching thro* the darkness, call’d ; the owls
Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt
Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms
Of evening, and the meanings of the wind.
And in those days she made a little song.
And call’d her song “The Song of Love and Death,”
And sang it : sweetly could she make and sing.
“ Sweet is true love tho’ given in vain, in vain ;
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain :
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I.
“Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be
Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me.
0 love, if death be sweeter, let me die.
“Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away.
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay,
1 know not which is sweeter, no, not I.
‘ ‘ I fain would follow love, if that could be ;
I needs must follow death, who calls for me ;
Gall and I follow, I follow! let me die.”
High with the last line scaled her voice, and this.
All in a fiery dawning wild with wind
That shook her tower, the brothers heard, and thought
With shuddering, “ Hark the Phantom of the house
That ever shrieks before a death,” and call’d
133
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The father, and all three in hurry and fear
Ran to her, and lo ! the blood-red light of dawn
Flared on her face, she shrilling, “Let me die!”
when we dwell upon a word we know.
Repeating, till the word we know so well
Becomes a wonder and we know not why,
So dwelt the father on her face and thought
“Is this Elaine?” till back the maiden fell.
Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay.
Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes.
At last she said, “Sweet brothers, yesternight
I seem’d a curious little maid again.
As happy as when we dwelt among the woods.
And when you used to take me with the flood
Up the great river in the boatman’s boat.
Only you would not pass beyond the cape
That has the poplar on it : there you fixt
Your limit, oft returning with the tide.
And yet I cried because you would not pass
Beyond it, and far up the shining flood
Until we found the palace of the King.
And yet you would not ; but this night I dream’d
That I was all alone upon the flood.
And then I said ‘Now shall I have my will:’
And there I woke, but still the wish remain’d.
So let me hence that I may pass at last
Beyond the poplar and far up the flood.
Until I find the palace of the King.
There will I enter in among them all.
And no man there will dare to mock at me ;
134
So those two brethren from the chariot took
And on the black, decks laid her in her bed.
Page 138
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me,
And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at me ;
Gawain, who bade a thousand farewells to me,
Lancelot, who coldly went nor bade me one :
And there the King will know me and my love,
And there the Queen herself will pity me,
And all the gentle court will welcome me,
And after my long voyage I shall rest ! ”
“Peace,” said her father, “O my child, you seem
Light-headed, for what force is yours to go.
So far, being sick ? and wherefore would you look
On this proud fellow again, who scorns us all ? ”
Then the rough Torre began to heave and move,
And bluster into stormy sobs and say,
“ I never loved him : an’ I meet with him,
I care not howsoever great he be.
Then will I strike at him and strike him down.
Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead.
For this discomfort he hath done the house.”
To which the gentle sister made reply,
“Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor be wroth,
Seeing it is no more Sir Lancelot’s fault
Not to love me, than it is mine to love
Him of all men who seems to me the highest.”
“ Highest ? ” the father answer’d, echoing “ highest ? ”
(He meant to break the passion in her) “nay,
Daughter, I know not what you call the highest ;
135
r
IDYLLS OF THE KING
But this I know, for all the people know it,
He loves the Queen, and in an open shame :
And she returns his love in open shame.
If this be high, what is it to be low ? ”
HEN spake the lily maid of Astolat :
Sweet father, all too faint and sick am 1
For anger : these are slanders : never yet
Was noble man but made ignoble talk.
He makes no friend who never made a foe.
But now it is my glory to have loved
One peerless, without stain : so let me pass.
My father, howsoe’er I seem to you.
Not all unhappy, having loved God’s best
And greatest, tho’ my love had no return :
Yet, seeing you desire your child to live.
Thanks, but you work against your own desire ;
For if I could believe the things you say
I should but die the sooner ; wherefore cease.
Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly man
Hither, and let me shrive me clean, and die.”
So when the ghostly man had come and gone.
She with a face, bright as for sin forgiven.
Besought Lavaine to write as she devised
A letter, word for word ; and when he ask’d
“Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear lord ?
Then will I bear it gladly;” she replied,
“For Lancelot and the Queen and all the world.
But I myself must bear it.” Then he wrote
The letter she devised; which being writ
136
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And folded, ‘ ‘ O sweet father, tender and true.
Deny me not,” she said — “you never yet
Denied my fancies — this, however strange.
My latest : lay the letter in my hand
A little ere I die, and close the hand
Upon it ; I shall guard it even in death.
And when the heat is gone from out my heart.
Then take the little bed on which I died
For Lancelot’s love, and deck it like the Queen’s
For richness, and me also like the Queen
In all I have of rich, and lay me on it.
And let there be prepared a chariot-bier
To take me to the river, and a barge
Be ready on the river, clothed in black. f
I go in state to court, to meet the Queen.
There surely I shall speak for mine own self.
And none of you can speak for me so well.
And therefore let our dumb old man alone
Go with me, he can steer and row, and he
Will guide me to that palace, to the doors.”
She ceased : her father promised ; whereupon
She grew so cheerful that they deem’d her death
Was rather in the fantasy than the blood.
But ten slow mornings past, and on the eleventh
Her father laid the letter in her hand.
And closed the hand upon it, and she died.
So that day there was dole in Astolat.
But when the next sun brake from underground.
Then, those two brethren slowly with bent brows
137
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Accompanying, the sad chariot-bier
Past like a shadow thro’ the field, that shone
Full-summer, to that stream whereon the barge,
Pall’d all its length in blackest samite, lay.
There sat the lifelong creature of the house.
Loyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck.
Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face.
So those two brethren from the chariot took
And on the black decks laid her in her bed,
Set in her hand a lily, o’er her hung
The silken case with braided blazonings.
And kiss’d her quiet brows, and saying to her
“Sister, farewell for ever,” and again
“Farewell, sweet sister, ” parted all in tears.
Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead
Steer’d by the dumb went upward with the flood
In her right hand the lily, in her left
The letter — all her bright hair streaming down —
And all the coverlid was cloth of gold
Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white
All but her face, and that clear-featured face
Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead
But fast asleep, and lay as tho’ she smiled.
That day Sir Lancelot at the palace craved
Audience of Guinevere, to give at last
The price of half a realm, his costly gift.
Hard-won and hardly won with bruise and blow,
With deaths of others, and almost his own.
The nine-years-fought-for diamonds : for he saw
One of her house, and sent him to the Queen
138
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen agreed
With such and so unmoved a majesty
She might have seem’d her statue, but that he,
Low-drooping till he well-nigh kiss’d her feet
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye
The shadow of a piece of pointed lace.
In the Queen’s shadow, vibrate on the walls,
And parted, laughing in his courtly heart.
L in an oriel on the summer side.
Vine-clad, of Arthur’s palace toward the
stream.
They met, and Lancelot kneeling utter’d,
“ Queen,
Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy.
Take, what I had not won except for you,
These jewels, and make me happy, making them
An armlet for the roundest arm on earth.
Or necklace for a neck to which the swan’s
Is tawnier than her cygnet’s : these are words :
Your beauty is your beauty, and I sin
In speaking, yet O grant my worship of it
Words, as we grant grief tears. Such sin in words
Perchance, we both can pardon : but, my Queen,
I hear of rumours flying thro’ your court.
Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife.
Should have in it an absoluter trust
To make up that defect : let rumours be :
When did not rumours fly? these, as I trust
That you trust me in your own nobleness,
I may not well believe that you believe.”
139
IDYLLS OF THE KING
While thus he spoke, half turn’d away, the Queen
Brake from the vast oriel-embowering vine
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast them off.
Till all the place whereon she stood was green ;
Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive hand
Received at once and laid aside the gems
There on a table near her, and replied :
“It may be, I am quicker of belief
Than you believe me, Lancelot of the Lake.
Our bond is not the bond of man and wife.
This good is in it, whatso’er of ill.
It can be broken easier, I for you
This many a year have done despite and wrong
To one whom ever in my heart of hearts
I did acknowledge nobler. What are these ?
Diamonds for me ! they had been thrice their worth
Being your gift, had you not lost your own.
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts
Must vary as the giver’s. Not for me!
For her ! for your new fancy. Only this
Grant me, I pray you : have your joys apart.
I doubt not that however changed, you keep
So much of what is graceful : and myself
Would shun to break those bounds of courtesy
In which as Arthur’s Queen I move and rule ;
So cannot speak my mind. An end to this!
A strange one ! yet I take it with Amen.
So pray you, add my diamonds to her pearls;
Deek her with these; tell her, she shines me down?
An armlet for an arm to which the Queen’s
140
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck
O as much fairer — as a faith once fair
Was richer than these diamonds — hers not mine —
Nay, by the mother of our Lord Himself,
Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will —
She shall not have them.”
Saying which she seized.
And, thro’ the casement standing wide for heat,
Flung them, and down they flash’d, and smote the stream.
Then from the smitten surface flash’d, as it were,
Diamonds to meet them, and they past away.
Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disgust
At love, life, all things, on the window ledge
Close underneath his eyes, and right across
Where these had fallen, slowly past the barge
Whereon the lily maid of Astolat
Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night.
But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away
To weep and wail in secret ; and the barge.
On to the palace-doorway sliding, paused.
There two stood arm’d, and kept the door ; to whom,
All up the marble stair, tier over tier.
Were added mouths that gaped, and eyes that ask’d
“What is it?” but that oarsman’s haggard face.
As hard and still as is the face that men
Shape to their fancy’s eye from broken rocks
On some cliflf-side, appall’d them, and they said,
“He is enchanted, cannot speak — and she.
Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen, so fair !
Yea, but how pale ! what are they? flesh and blood?
141!
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Or come to take the King to fairy land ?
For some do hold our Arthur cannot die,
But that he passes into fairy land.”
HILE thus they babbled of the King, the King
Game girt with knights : then turn’d the
tongueless man
From the half-face to the full eye, and rose
And pointed to the damsel, and the doors.
Sir Arthur bade the meek Sir Percivale
And pure Sir Galahad to uplift the maid ;
And reverently they bore her into hall.
Then came the fine Gawain and wonder’d at her.
And Lancelot later came and mused at her,
And last the Queen herself and pitied her :
But Arthur spied the letter in her hand,
Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it ; this was all.
'‘Most noble lord. Sir Lancelot of the Lake,
I, sometime call’d the maid of Astolat,
Come, for you left me taking no farewell.
Hither, to take my last farewell of you.
I loved you, and my love had no return,
And therefore my true love has been my death.
And therefore to our lady Guinevere,
And to all other ladies, I make moan.
Pray for my soul, and yield me burial.
Pray for my soul thou too. Sir Lancelot,
As thou art a knight peerless.”
Thus he read.
And ever in the reading, lords and dames
142
Farewell, fair lily.
Page 146
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
Wept, looking often from his face who read
To hers, which lay so silent, and at times.
So touch’d were they, half-thinking that her lips,
Who had devised the letter, moved again.
Then freely spoke Sir Lancelot to them all :
“ My lord liege Arthur, and all ye that hear.
Know that for this most gentle maiden’s death
Right heavy am I ; for good she was and true,
But loved me with a love beyond all love
In women, whomsoever I have known.
Yet to be loved makes not to love again ;
Not at my years, however it hold in youth.
I swear by truth and knighthood that I gave
No cause, not willingly, for such a love:
To this I call my friends in testimony.
Her brethren, and her father, who himself
Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use,
To break her passion, some discourtesy
Against my nature : what I could, I did.
I left her and I bade her no farewell.
Tho’, had I dreamt the damsel would have died,
I might have put my wits to some rough use.
And help’d her from herself.”
Then said the Queen
(Sea was her wrath, yet working after storm),
“ You might at least have done her so much grace.
Fair lord, as would have help’d her from her death.”
He raised his head, their eyes met and hers fell.
He adding,
'•Queen, she would not be content
143
u
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Save that I wedded her, which could not be.
Then might she follow me thro’ the world, she ask’d ;
It could not be. I told her that her love
Was but the flash of youth, would darken down
To rise hereafter in a stiller flame
Toward one more worthy of her — then would I,
More specially were he, she wedded, poor,
Estate them with large land and territory
In mine own realm beyond the narrow seas.
To keep them in all joyance : more than this
I could not ; this she would not, and she died.”
He pausing, Arthur answer’d, ” O my knight.
It will be to your worship, as my knight.
And mine, as head of all our Table Round,
To see that she be buried worshipfully. ”
O toward that shrine which then in all the realm
Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went
The marshall’d order of their Table Round,
And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to see
The maiden buried, not as one unknown.
Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies.
And mass, and rolling music, like a Queen.
And when the knights had laid her comely head
Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings.
Then Arthur spake among them, “Let her tomb
Be costly, and her image thereupon.
And let the shield of Lancelot at her feet
Be carven, and her lily in her hand.
And let the story of her dolorous voyage
144
IDYLLS OF THE KING
For all true hearts be blazon’d on her tomb
In letters gold and azure ! ” which was wrought
Thereafter ; but when now the lords and dames
And people, from the high door streaming, brake
Disorderly, as homeward each, the Queen,
Who mark’d Sir Lancelot where he moved apart,
Drew near, and sigh’d in passing, “ Lancelot,
Forgive me ; mine was jealousy in love.”
He answer’d with his eyes upon the ground,
“That is love’s curse ; pass on, my Queen, forgiven.”
But Arthur, who beheld his cloudy brows,
Approach’d him, and with full affection flung
One arm about his neck, and spake and said :
“ Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I have
Most joy and most affiance, for I know
What thou hast been in battle by my side,
And many a time have watch’d thee at the tilt
Strike down the lusty and long practised knight,
And let the younger and unskill’d go by
To win his honour and to make his name,
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man
Made to be loved ; but now I would to God,
For the wild people say wild things of thee.
Thou could’st have loved this maiden, shaped, it seems.
By God for thee alone, and from her face,
If one may judge the living by the dead.
Delicately pure and marvellously fair.
Who might have brought thee, now a lonely man
Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons
Born to the glory of thy name and fame,
145
IDYLLS OF THE KING
My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the Lake.”
Then answer’d Lancelot, “Fair she was, my King,
Pure, as you ever wish your knights to be.
To doubt her fairness were to want an eye,
To doubt her pureness were to want a heart —
Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love
Could bind him, but free love will not be bound.”
“Free love, so bound, were freest,” said the King.
“ Let love be free ; free love is for the best :
And, after Heaven, on our dull side of death.
What should be best, if not so pure a love
Clothed in so pure a loveliness? yet thee
She fail’d to bind, tho’ being, as I think.
Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I know.”
D Lancelot answer’d nothing, but he went,
And at the inrunning of a little brook
Sat by the river in a cove, and watch’d
The high reed wave, and lifted up his eyes
And saw the barge that brought her moving
down.
Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and said
Low in himself, “Ah simple heart and sweet.
You loved me, damsel, surely with a love
Far tenderer than my Queen’s. Pray for thy soul?
Aye, that will I. Farewell too — now at last —
Farewell, fair lily. ‘Jealousy in love?’
Not rather dead love’s harsh heir, jealous pride?
Queen, if I grant the jealousy as of love,
146
IDYLLS OF THE KING
May not your crescent fear for name and fame
Speak, as it waxes, of a love that wanes?
Why did the King dwell on my name to me?
Mine own name shames me, seeming a reproach,
Lancelot, whom the Lady of the Lake
Stole from his mother — as the story runs —
She chanted snatches of mysterious song
Heard on the winding waters, eve and morn
She kiss’d me saying “Thou art fair, my child,
As a king’s son,” and often in her arms
She bare me, pacing on the dusky mere.
Would she had drown’d me in it, where’er it be 1
For what am I ? what profits me my name
Of greatest knight ? I fought for it, and have it ;
Pleasure to have it, none ; to lose it, pain ;
Now grown a part of me : but what use in it ?
To make men worse by making my sin known ?
Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great?
Alas for Arthur’s greatest knight, a man
Not after Arthur’s heart ! I needs must break
These bonds that so defame me : not without
She wills it : would I, if she will’d it ? nay.
Who knows? but if I would not, then may God,
I pray Him, send a sudden Angel down
To seize me by the hair and bear me far.
And fling me deep in that forgotten mere.
Among the tumbled fragments of the hills.”
So groan’d Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain.
Not knowing he should die a holy man.
147
GUINEVERE
w
''Tjhe Q_ueen Tvho sat betwixt her best
(Said and lissome X)ivien, of her court
'^he wiliest and the Worst.
Page 152
GUINEVERE
UEEN GUINEVERE had fled the court, and
sat
There in the holy house at Almesbury
Weeping, none with her save a little maid,
A novice : one low light betwixt them burn d,
Blurr’d by the creeping mist, for all abroad,
Beneath a moon unseen albeit at full.
The white mist, like a face-cloth to the face.
Clung to the dead earth, and the land was still.
For hither had she fled, her cause of flight
Sir Modred ; he the nearest to the King,
His nephew, ever like a subtle beast
Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne.
Ready to spring, waiting a chance : for this.
He chill’d the popular praises of the King
With silent smiles of slow disparagement ;
And tamper’d with the Lords of the White Horse,
Heathen, the brood by Hengist left ; and sought
To make disruption in the Table Round
Of Arthur, and to splinter it into feuds
Serving his traitorous end ; and all his aims
151
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Were sharpen’d by strong hate for Lancelot.
OR thus it chanced one morn when all the
court,
Green-suited, but with plumes that mock’d
the may.
Had been, their wont, a-maying and return’d.
That Modred still in green, all ear and eye.
Climb’d to the high top of the garden-wall
To spy some secret scandal if he might,
And saw the Queen who sat betwixt her best
Enid, and lissome Vivien, of her court
The wiliest and the worst ; and more than this
He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing by
Spied where he couch’d, and as the gardener’s hand
Picks from the colewort a green caterpillar.
So from the high wall and the flowering grove
Of grasses Lancelot pluck’d him by the heel,
And cast him as a worm upon the way ;
But when he knew the Prince tho’ marr’d with dust,
He, reverencing king’s blood in a bad man,
Made such excuses as he might, and these
Full knightly without scorn ; for in those days
No knight of Arthur’s noblest dealt in scorn ;
But, if a man were halt or hunch’d, in him
By those whom God had made full-limb’d and tall.
Scorn was allow’d as part of his defect.
And he was answer’d softly by the King
And all his Table. So Sir Lancelot holp
To raise the Prince, who rising twice or thrice
Full sharply smote his knees, and smiled, and went :
152
IDYLLS OF THE KING
But, ever after, the small violence done
Rankled in him and ruflBled all his heart,
As the sharp wind that ruffles all day long
A little bitter pool about a stone
On the bare coast.
But when Sir Lancelot told
This matter to the Queen, at first she laugh’d
Lightly, to think of Modred’s dusty fall.
Then shudder’d, as the village wife who cries
“ I shudder, some one steps across my grave ; ”
Then laugh’d again, but faintlier, for indeed
She half-foresaw that he, the subtle beast.
Would track her guilt until he found, and hers
Would be for evermore a name of scorn.
Henceforward rarely could she front in Hall,
Or elsewhere, Modred’s narrow foxy face.
Heart-hiding smile, and grey persistent eye :
Henceforward too, the Powers that tend the soul.
To help it from the death that cannot die.
And save it even in extremes, began
To vex and plague her. Many a time for hours,
Beside the placid breathings of the King,
In the dead night, grim faces came and went
Before her, or a vague spiritual fear —
Like to some doubtful noise of creaking doors,
Heard by the watcher in a haunted house.
That keeps the rust of murder on the walls —
Held her awake : or if she slept, she dream’d
An awful dream ; for then she seem’d to stand
On some vast plain before a setting sun.
And from the sun there swiftly made at her
153
IDYLLS OF THE KING
A ghastly something, and its shadow flew
Before it, till it touch’d her, and she turn’d —
When lo ! her own, that broadening from her feet,
And blackening, swallow’d all the land, and in it
Far cities burnt, and with a cry she woke.
And all this trouble did not pass but grew ;
Till ev’n the clear face of the guileless King,
And trustful courtesies of household life,
Became her bane ; and at the last she said,
“ O Lancelot, get thee hence to thine own land.
For if thou tarry we shall meet again.
And if we meet again, some evil chance
Will make the smouldering scandal break and blaze
Before the people, and our lord the King.”
And Lancelot ever promised, but remain’d.
And still they met and met. Again she said,
“O Lancelot, if thou love me get thee hence.”
And then they were agreed upon a night
(When the good King should not be there) to meet
And part for ever. Passion-pale they met
And greeted : hands in hands, and eye to eye,
Low on the border of her couch they sat
Stammering and staring : it was their last hour,
A madness of farewells. And Modred brought
His creatures to the basement of the tower
For testimony ; and crying with full voice
“Traitor, come out, ye are trapt at last,” aroused
Lancelot, who rushing outward lionlike
Leapt on him, and hurl’d him headlong, and he fell
Stunn’d, and his creatures took and bare him off
And all was still : then she, “The end is come
154
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And I am shamed for ever ; ” and he said,
“ Mine be the shame ; mine was the sin : but rise,
And fly to my strong castle overseas :
There will I hide thee, till my life shall end.
There hold thee with my life against the world.”
She answer’d, ‘ ‘ Lancelot, wilt thou hold me so ?
Nay, friend, for we have taken our farewells.
Would God, that thou could’st hide me from myself!
Mine is the shame, for I was wife, and thou
Unwedded : yet rise now, and let us fly,
For I will draw me into sanctuary.
And bide my doom.” So Lancelot got her horse.
Sat her thereon, and mounted on his own,
And then they rode to the divided way.
There kiss’d, and parted weeping : for he past,
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen,
Back to his land ; but she to Almesbury
Fled all night long by glimmering waste and weald.
And heard the Spirits of the waste and weald
Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them moan ;
And in herself she moan’d “Too late, too late!”
Till in the cold wind that foreruns the morn,
A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying high.
Croak’d, and she thought, “He spies a field of death
For now the Heathen of the Northern Sea,
Lured by the crimes and frailties of the court.
Begin to slay the folk, and spoil the land.”
And when she came to Almesbury she spake
There to the nuns, and said, “Mine enemies
Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood,
155
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask
Her name, to whom ye yield it, till her time
To tell you : ” and her beauty, grace, and power
Wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared
To ask it.
So the stately Queen abode
For many a week, unknown, among the nuns ;
Nor with them mix’d, nor told her name, nor sought,
Wrapt in her grief, for housel or for shrift,
But communed only with the little maid.
Who pleased her with a babbling heedlessness
Which often lured her from herself ; but now,
This night, a rumour wildly blown about
Came, that Sir Modred had usurp’d the realm.
And leagued him with the Heathen, while the King
Was waging war on Lancelot : then she thought,
“With what a hate the people and the King
Must hate me ! ” and bow’d down upon her hands
Silent, until the little maid, who brook’d
No silence, brake it, uttering, “Late! so late!
What hour, I wonder, now ? ” and when she drew
No answer, by and by began to hum
An air the nuns had taught her: “Late, so late!”
Which when she heard, the Queen look’d up, and said,
‘ ‘ O maiden, if indeed you list to sing.
Sing, and unbind my heart that I may weep.”
Whereat full willingly sang the little maid.
“ Late, late, so late ! and dark the night and chill !
Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now.
156
IDYLLS OF THE KING
“No light had we: for that we do repent;
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent.
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now.
“No light: so late! and dark and chill the night!
O let us in, that we may find the light !
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now.
“Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet?
O let us in, tho’ late, to kiss his feet !
No, no, too late ! ye cannot enter now.”
So sang the novice, while full passionately.
Her head upon her hands, remembering
Her thought when first she came, wept the sad Queen.
Then said the little novice prattling to her.
PRAY you, noble lady, weep no more ;
But let my words, the words of one so small.
Who knowing nothing knows but to obey.
And if I do not there is penance given —
Comfort your sorrows ; for they do not flow
From evil done ; right sure am I of that.
Who see your tender grace and stateliness.
But weigh your sorrows with our lord the King’s,
And weighing find them less ; for gone is he
To wage grim war against Sir Lancelot there.
Round that strong castle where he holds the Queen ;
And Modred whom he left in charge of all.
The traitor.— Ah, sweet lady, the King’s grief
For his own self, and his own Queen, and realm,
157
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Must needs be thrice as great as any of ours.
For me, I thank the saints, I am not great.
For if there ever come a grief to me
I cry my cry in silence, and have done :
None knows it, and my tears have brought me good
But even were the griefs of little ones
As great as those of great ones, yet this grief
Is added to the griefs the great must bear,
That howsoever much they may desire
Silence, they cannot weep behind a cloud :
As even here they talk at Almesbury
About the good King and his wicked Queen,
And were I such a King with such a Queen,
Well might I wish to veil her wickedness ;
But were I such a King, it could not be.”
Then to her own sad heart mutter’d the Queen,
“Will the child kill me with her innocent talk?”
But openly she answer’d, “Must not I,
If this false traitor have displaced his lord,
Grieve with the common grief of all the realm ? ”
“Yea,” said the maid, “this is all woman’s grief.
That she is woman, whose disloyal life
Hath wrought confusion in the Table Round
Which good King Arthur founded, years ago.
With signs and miracles and wonders, there
At Gamelot, ere the coming of the Queen.”
Then thought the Queen within herself again,
“Will the child kill me with her foolish prate?”
158
1 1 Teas their last hour,
A madness of farewells.
Page 154
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
But openly she spake and said to her,
“O little maid, shut in by nunnery walls.
What canst thou know of Kings and Tables Round,
Or what of signs and wonders, but the signs
And simple miracles of thy nunnery ? ”
O whom the little novice garrulously :
“Yea, but I know; the land was full of signs
And wonders ere the coming of the Queen.
So said my father, and himself was knight
Of the great Table — at the founding of it ;
And rode thereto from Lyonnesse, and he said
That as he rode, an hour or maybe twain
After the sunset, down the coast, he heard
Strange music, and he paused, and turning — there,
All down the lonely coast of Lyonnesse,
Each with a beacon-star upon his head,
And with a wild sea-light about his feet,
He saw them — headland after headland flame
Far on into the rich heart of the west ;
And in the light the white mermaiden swam,
And strong man-breasted things stood from the sea.
And sent a deep sea-voice thro’ all the land.
To which the little elves of chasm and cleft
Made answer, sounding like a distant horn.
So said my father — yea, and furthermore.
Next morning, while he past the dim-lit w^oods.
Himself beheld three spirits mad with joy
Gome dashing down on a tall wayside flower,
That shook beneath them, as the thistle shakes
When three gray linnets wrangle for the seed :
159
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And still at evenings on before his horse
The flickering fairy circle wheel’d and broke
Flying, and link’d again, and wheel’d and broke
Flying, for all the land was full of life.
And when at last he came to Gamelot,
A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand
Swung round the lighted lantern of the hall ;
And in the hall itself was such a feast
As never man had dream’d ; for every knight
Had whatsoever meat he long’d for served
By hands unseen ; and even as he said
Down in the cellars merry bloated things
Shoulder’d the spigot, traddling on the butts
While the wine ran : so glad were spirits and men
Before the coming of the sinful Queen.”
Then spake the Queen and somewhat bitterly,
“Were they so glad? ill prophets were they all.
Spirits and men : could none of them foresee.
Not even thy wise father with his signs
And wonders, what has fall’n upon the realm ? ”
To whom the novice garrulously again.
“Yea, one, a bard ; of whom my father said.
Full many a noble war-song had he sung,
Ev’n in the presence of an enemy’s fleet.
Between the steep cliflf and the coming wave ;
And many a mystic lay of life and death
Had chanted on the smoky mountain-tops,
When round him bent the spirits of the hills
With all their dewy hair blown back like flame :
160
Before the coming of the sinful Queen.
Page 160
IDYLLS OF THE KING
So said my father — and that night the bard
Sang Arthur’s glorious wars, and sang the King
As wellnigh more than man, and rail’d at those
Who call’d him the false son of Gorlots :
For there was no man knew from whence he came ;
But after tempest, when the long wave broke
All down the thundering shores of Bude and Bos,
There came a day as still as heaven, and then
They found a naked child upon the sands
Of dark Dundagil by the Cornish sea ;
And that was Arthur ; and they foster’d him
Till he by miracle was approven King :
And that his grave should be a mystery
From all men, like his birth ; and could he find
A woman in her womanhood as great
As he was in his manhood, then, he sang.
The twain together well might change the world.
But even in the middle of his song
He falter’d, and his hand fell from the harp.
And pale he turn’d, and reel’d, and would have fall’n,
But that they stay’d him up ; nor would he tell
His vision ; but what doubt that he foresaw
This evil work of Lancelot and the Queen ?
Then thought the Queen “Lo! they have set her on,
Our simple-seeming Abbess and her nuns.
To play upon me,” and bow’d her head nor spake.
Whereat the novice crying, with clasp’d hands.
Shame on her own garrulity garrulously.
Said the good nuns would check her gadding tongue
Full often, “ and, sweet lady, if I seem
161
IDYLLS OF THE KING
To vex an ear too sad to listen to me,
Unmannerly, with prattling and the tales
Which my good father told me, check me too :
Nor let me shame my father’s memory, one
Of noblest manners, tho’ himself would say
Sir Lancelot had the noblest ; and he died,
Kill’d in a tilt, come next, five summers back.
And left me ; but of others who remain.
And of the two first-famed for courtesy —
And pray you check me if I ask amiss —
But pray you, which had noblest, while you moved
Among them, Lancelot or our lord the King ? ”
Then the pale Queen look’d up and answer’d her.
“Sir Lancelot, as became a noble knight.
Was gracious to all ladies, and the same
In open battle or the tilting-field
Forbore his own advantage, and the King
In open battle or the tilting-field
Forbore his own advantage, and these two
Were the most nobly-manner’d men of all;
For manners are not idle, but the fruit
Of loyal nature, and of noble mind.’’
“Yea,” said the maid, “be manners such fair fruit?
Then Lancelot’s needs must be a thousand-fold
Less noble, being, as all rumour runs.
The most disloyal friend in all the world.”
To which a mournful answer made the Queen :
“O closed about by narrowing nunnery- walls,
162
IDYLLS OF THE KING
What knowest thou of the world, and all its lights
And shadows, all the wealth and all the woe ?
If ever Lancelot, that most noble knight.
Were for one hour less noble than himself.
Pray for him that he scape the doom of fire.
And weep for her, who drew him to his doom.”
“Yea,” said the little novice, “I pray for both;
But 1 should all as soon believe that his.
Sir Lancelot’s, were as noble as the King’s,
As I could think, sweet lady, yours would be
Such as they are, were you the sinful Queen.”
O she, like many another babbler, hurt
Whom she would soothe, and harm’d where she
would heal ;
For here a sudden flush of wrathful heat
Fired all the pale face of the Queen, who cried,
“Such as thou art be never maiden more
For ever ! thou their tool, set on to plague
And play upon, and harry me, petty spy
And traitress.” When that storm of anger brake
From Guinevere, aghast the maiden rose.
White as her veil, and stood before the Queen
As tremulously as foam upon the beach
Stands in a wind, ready to break and fly.
And when the Queen had added “Get thee hence,”
Fled frighted. Then that other left alone
Sigh’d, and began to gather heart again.
Saying in herself, “The simple, fearful child
Meant nothing, but my own too-fearful guilt,
163
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Simpler than any child, betrays itself.
But help me, Heaven, for surely I repent.
For what is true repentance but in thought —
Not ev’n in inmost thought to think again
The sins that made the past so pleasant to us :
And I have sworn never to see him more,
To see him more.”
And ev’n in saying this,
Her memory from old habit of the mind
Went slipping back upon the golden days
In which she saw him first, when Lancelot came.
Reputed the best knight and goodliest man.
Ambassador, to lead her to his lord
Arthur, and led her forth, and far ahead
Of his and her retinue moving, they.
Rapt in sweet talk or lively, all on love
And sport and tilts and pleasure (for the time
Was maytime, and as yet no sin was dream’d).
Rode under groves that look’d a paradise
Of blossom, over sheets of hyacinth
That seem’d the heavens upbreaking thro’ the earth.
And on from hill to hill, and every day
Beheld at noon in some delicious dale
The silk pavilions of King Arthur raised
For brief repast or afternoon repose
By couriers gone before ; and on again.
Till yet once more ere set of sun they saw
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship,
That crown’d the state pavilion of the King,
Blaze by the rushing brook or silent well.
164
^hey found a naked child upon the sands
Of dark Dundagil by the Cornish sea ;
And that was Arthur; and they foster'd him
‘T^ill he by miracle was approven King.
Page 161
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IDYLLS OF THE KING
UT when the Queen immersed in such a trance
And moving thro* the past unconsciously,
Came to that point, when first she saw the King
Ride toward her from the city, sigh’d to find
Her journey done, glanced at him, thought him
cold.
High, self-contain’d, and passionless, not like him,
“Not like my Lancelot” — while she brooded thus
And grew half-guilty in her thoughts again.
There rode an armed warrior to the doors.
A murmuring whisper thro’ the nunnery ran.
Then on a sudden a cry, “The King.” She sat
Stiff-stricken, listening ; but when armed feet
Thro’ the long gallery from the outer doors
Rang coming, prone from off her seat she fell.
And grovell’d with her face against the floor:
There with her milkwhite arms and shadowy hair
She made her face a darkness from the King :
And in the darkness heard his armed feet
Pause by her ; then came silence, then a voice.
Monotonous and hollow like a Ghost’s
Denouncing judgement, but tho’ changed the King’s.
“ Liest thou here so low, the child of one
I honour’d, happy, dead before thy shame?
Well is it that no child is born of thee.
The children born of thee are sword and fire.
Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws,
The craft of kindred and the Godless hosts
Of Heathen swarming o’er the Northern Sea ;
Whom I, while yet Sir Lancelot, my right arm,
165
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The mightiest of my knights, abode with me,
Have everywhere about this land of Christ
In twelve great battles ruining overthrown.
And knowest thou now from whence I come — from him.
From waging bitter war with him ; and he.
That did not shun to smite me in worse way.
Had yet that grace of courtesy in him left.
He spared to lift his hand against the King
Who made him knight ; but many a knight was slain ;
And many more, and all his kith and kin
Clave to him, and abode in his own land.
And many more when Modred raised revolt.
Forgetful of their troth and fealty, clave
To Modred, and a remnant stays with me.
And of this remnant will I leave a part.
True men who love me still, for whom I live.
To guard thee in the wild hour coming on.
Lest but a hair of this low head be harm’d.
Fear not : thou shalt be guarded till my death.
Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies
Have err’d not, that I march to meet my doom.
Thou hast not made my life so sweet to me.
That I the King should greatly care to live ;
For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my life.
Bear with me for the last time while I show,
Ev’n for thy sake, the sin which thou hast sinn’d.
For when the Roman left us, and their law
Relax’d its hold upon us, and the ways
Were filled with rapine, here and there a deed
Of prowess done redress’d a random wrong.
But I was first of all the kings who drew
166
IDYLLS OF THE KING
The knighthood-errant of this realm and all
The realms together under me, their Head,
In that fair order of my Table Round,
A glorious company, the flower of men.
To serve as model for the mighty world,
And be the fair beginning of a time.
1 made them lay their hands in mine and swear
To reverence the King, as if he were
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King,
To break the Heathen and uphold the Christ,
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs.
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it.
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity.
To love one maiden only, cleave to her.
And worship her by years of noble deeds.
Until they won her ; for indeed I knew
Of no more subtle master under Heaven
Than is the maiden passion for a maid.
Not only to keep down the base in man.
But teach high thought, and amiable words
And courtliness, and the desire of fame.
And love of truth, and all that makes a man.
And all this throve until I wedded thee !
Believing, ‘lo mine helpmate, one to feel
My purpose and rejoicing in my joy.’
Then came thy shameful sin with Lancelot ;
Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt;
Then others, following these my mightiest knights.
And drawing foul ensample from fair names,
Sinn’d also, till the loathsome opposite
Of all my heart had destined did obtain,
167
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And all thro’ thee ! so that this life of mine
I guard as God’s high gift from scathe and wrong,
Not greatly care to lose ; but rather think
How sad it were for Arthur, should he live,
To sit once more within his lonely hall,
And miss the wonted number of my knights.
And miss to hear high talk of noble deeds
As in the golden days before thy sin.
For which of us, who might be left, could speak
Of the pure heart, nor seem to glance at thee ?
And in thy bowers of Gamelot or of Usk
Thy shadow still would glide from room to room.
And I should evermore be vext with thee
In hanging robe or vacant ornament.
Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair.
For think not, tho’ thou would’st not love thy lord.
Thy lord has wholly lost his love for thee.
I am not made of so slight elements.
Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame.
I hold that man the worst of public foes
Who either for his own or children’s sake.
To save his blood from scandal, lets the wife
Whom he knows false, abide and rule the house :
For being thro’ his cowardice allow’d
Her station, taken everywhere for pure.
She like a new disease, unknown to men.
Creeps, no precaution used, among the crowd.
Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes, and saps
The fealty of our friends, and stirs the pulse
With devil’s leaps, and poisons half the young.
Worst of the worst were that man he that reigns !
168
As in the golden days.
Page / 68
v:
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Better the King’s waste hearth and aching heart
Than thou reseated in thy place of light,
The mockery of my people, and their bane.”
He paused, and in the pause she crept an inch
Nearer, and laid her hands about his feet.
Far off a solitary trumpet blew.
Then waiting by the doors the warhorse neigh’d
As at a friend’s voice, and he spake again :
ET think not that I come to urge thy
crimes,
I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere,
I, whose vast pity almost makes me die
To see thee, laying there thy golden head,
My pride in happier summers, at my feet.
The wrath which forced my thoughts on that fierce law.
The doom of treason and the flaming death,
(When first I learnt thee hidden here) is past.
The pang — which while I weigh’d thy heart with one
Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee.
Made my tears burn — is also past, in part.
And all is past, the sin is sinn’d, and I,
Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God
Forgives : do thou for thine own soul the rest.
But how to take last leave of all I loved ?
0 golden hair, with which I used to play
Not knowing! O imperial-moulded form.
And beauty such as never woman wore.
Until it came a kingdom’s curse with thee —
1 cannot touch thy lips, they are not mine,
169
IDYLLS OF THE KING
But Lancelot’s: nay, they never were the King’s.
I cannot take thy hand ; that too is flesh,
And in the flesh thou hast sinn’d ; and mine own flesh
H^re looking down on thine polluted, cries
‘ I loathe thee : ’ yet not less, O Guinevere,
For 1 was ever virgin save for thee,
My love thro’ flesh hath wrought into my life
So far, that my doom is, I love thee still.
Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul.
And so thou lean on our fair father Christ,
Hereafter in that world where all are pure
We two may meet before high God, and thou
Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know
I am thine husband — not a smaller soul.
Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that,
I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence.
Thro’ the thick night I hear the trumpet blow :
They summon me their King to lead mine hosts
Far down to that great battle in the west.
Where I must strike against my sister’s son,
Leagued with the lords of the White Horse and knights
Once mine, and strike him dead, and meet myself
Death, or I know not what mysterious doom.
And thou remaining here wilt learn the event ;
But hither shall I never come again,
Never lie by thy side, see thee no more :
Farewell ! ”
And while she grovell’d at his feet,
She felt the King’s breath wander o’er her neck.
And, in the darkness o’er her fallen head,
Perceived the waving of his hands that blest.
170
IDYLLS OF THE KING
HEN, listening till those armed steps were gone,
Rose the pale Queen, and in her anguish
found
The casement : “ Peradventure,” so she thought,
“ If I might see his face, and not be seen.’*
And lo, he sat on horseback at the door I
And near him the sad nuns with each a light
Stood, and he gave them charge about the Queen,
To guard and foster her for evermore.
And while he spake to these his helm was lower’d.
To which for crest the golden dragon clung
Of Britain ; so she did not see the face.
Which then was as an angel’s, but she saw.
Wet with the mists and smitten by the lights.
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship
Blaze, making all the night a steam of fire.
And even then he turn’d ; and more and more
The moony vapour rolling round the King,
Who seem’d the phantom of a Giant in it,
Enwound him fold by fold, and made him grey
And greyer, till himself became as mist
Before her, moving ghostlike to his doom.
Then she stretch’d out her arms and cried aloud
“ Oh Arthur ! ” there her voice brake suddenly,
Then — as a stream that spouting from a cliff
Fails in mid air, but gathering at the base
Re-makes itself, and flashes down the vale —
Went on in passionate utterance.
“ Gone — my lord I
Gone thro’ my sin to slay and to be slain !
, 171
IDYLLS OF THE KING
And he forgave me, and I could not speak.
Farewell ? I should have answer’d his farewell.
His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord the King,
My own true lord ! how dare I call him mine ?
The shadow of another cleaves to me.
And makes me one pollution : he, the King,
Gall’d me polluted : shall I kill myself?
What help in that ? I cannot kill my sin.
If soul be soul ; nor can I kill my shame ;
No, nor by living can I live it down.
The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months.
The months will add themselves and make the years.
The years will roll into the centuries.
And mine will ever be a name of scorn.
I must not dwell on that defeat of fame.
Let the world be ; that is but of the world.
What else ? what hope ? I think there was a hope,
Except he mock’d me when he spake of hope ;
His hope he call’d it ; but he never mocks.
For mockery is the fume of little hearts.
And blessed be the King, who hath forgiven
My wickedness to him, and left me hope
That in mine own heart I can live down sin
And be his mate hereafter in the heavens
Before high God. Ah great and gentle lord.
Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint
Among his warring senses, to thy knights —
To whom my false voluptuous pride, that took
Full easily all impressions from below.
Would not look up, or half-despised the height
To which I would not or I could not climb —
172
The sombre close of that voluptuous day
Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King.
Page 174
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rkuo^^me^^ui ©Y^iR-.&e. M seorfi, _ •• ”• ' ' '
I must :n6f dwell kyb' 'that' defeat ok ifemew \ ;d
Let, tire AToml ; bo t tbaiyis, bui of-.the 'world. ' , ’
W |mt: eiac ?.':.what;liop^ y^-us a hope.^
jB-^cept he moefc^d me- -when he' spake' of ' hop^b'^yd.3|
■ His • hopp'fhe caird. it'} -hm -he ^aever- mo.ckw
dor ■ mockery is:: the „ .nrxo^ of Ikde;, •icuxtsdj.y
.'.-Abd bimedv'be '-wHdi .fi-ath • for^ivda 2‘
My wickediieSfi ..fco^iilfo; aiid' lA
/:Thcit in mk’‘' if>wti. h:e$n i- : live doWsi'Wm
Atni b- yv.;-' . Hereafter la y.the^ hba'jy^s'
Afy.
M.H : .areat ^ and ■ aantfe-
'■u. .
Who ■:: yy-r, as is the '«miscleacd. of ■. y
Amabg kb weyrmg ysense^Ao’ thylko •
To:dvhooi^,,my - mhiir.volispvL^^ drat/ook
Fuir
.saly-«'WU imprt^ihjesfr xrofh 'bmow,
Wc aid not look up. or hulfklesp^ed" the
;To which I' rvetsld 'nbt-'or.,
' ■■ ••I''
: y-*!!
IDYLLS OF THE KING
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air,
That pure severity of perfect light —
I wanted warmth and colour which I found
In Lancelot — now I see thee what thou art,
Thou art the highest and most human too.
Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there none
Will tell the King I love him tho’ so late ?
Now — ere he goes to the great Battle ? none :
Myself must tell him in that purer life.
But now it were too daring. Ah my God,
What might I not have made of thy fair world,
Had I but loved thy highest creature here ?
It was my duty to have loved the highest :
It surely was my profit had I known :
It would have been my pleasure had I seen.
We needs must love the highest when we see it.
Not Lancelot, nor another.”
Here her hand
Grasp’d, made her vail her eyes : she look’d and saw
The novice, weeping, suppliant, and said to her,
“Yea, little maid, for am / not forgiven?”
Then glancing up beheld the holy nuns
All round her, weeping ; and her heart was loosed
Within her, and she wept with these and said :
“Ye know me then, that wicked one, who broke
The vast design and purpose of the King.
0 shut me round with narrowing nunnery-walls,
Meek maidens, from the voices crying ‘ shame. ’
1 must not scorn myself : he loves me still.
Let no one dream but that he loves me still.
173
IDYLLS OF THE KING
So let me, if you do not shudder at me
Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you ;
Wear black and white, and be a nun like you ;
Fast with your fasts, not feasting with your feasts ;
Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your joys.
But not rejoicing ; mingle with your rites ;
Pray and be pray’d for ; lie before your shrines ;
Do each low office of your holy house ;
Walk your dim cloister, and distribute dole
To poor sick people, richer in His eyes
Who ransom’d us, and haler too than I ;
And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine own
And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer
The sombre close of that voluptuous day,
Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King.”
She said : they took her to themselves ; and she
Still hoping, fearing “is it yet too late?”
Dwelt with them, till in time their Abbess died.
Then she, for her good deeds and her pure life,
And for the power of ministration in her.
And likewise for the high rank she had borne,
Was chosen Abbess, there, an Abbess, lived
For three brief years, and there, an Abbess, past
To where beyond these voices there is peace.
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